Make a man out of you
by StrawberryXxBlonde
Summary: Jackson Malarkey joined the paratroopers with his brother. Together, they did all they could to look after each other and to keep the truth about Jackson from their brothers in arms: Jackson's real name is Jane. She hardened during her training and perfectly acted as a man was supposed to. Gradually,she will find out hiding one's nature is impossible. [Winters/OC]
1. Chapter 1

_Hello ^^ ! First of all, I'm new to or, at least, I've never posted a fanfiction on it. I decided to do it now since I had this story on my mind and just wanted to share it with someone :) Blatant inspiration comes quite obviously from **Mulan** (I love it!) so there's going to be romance but especially brotherood :) I hope you like it - and that you let me know - and I'm sorry whether my grammar is not perfect: I'm not a  native speaker so don't be harsh on me hahah I just try to do of my best :)_

 _So...enjoy!_

* * *

The Lieutenant inhaled the cool spring breeze that messed up his hair. Funny how running when he was not barked to do it seemed so easy, almost liberating. Feeling his legs unclenching and his breath heavy but steady, he smiled inwardly, enjoying every second of it, but it just wasn't the same. He missed his soldiers' jerks during the night march, noting how they helped each other when Sobel looked away. He closed his eyes feeling his muscles growing stronger, his feet moving faster while cherishing such memories, lingering on how they pitifully they formally saluted him now when they met him in the mess hall. Beyond doubt, he could state they miss him, too. He was genuinely and rightly interested in his men and knew the feeling was returned. He always tried to balance the terror Captain Sobel spread across the men with genuine trust in them. It wasn't an easy task and it unfolded during the years they spent together, sweating to run Currahe, doing their utmost to satisfy every Sobel's order and growing closer as they spent their nights all together in their barracks. Dick was conscious he could not simply act as their friend: he was an officer, someone they should've followed with no hesitation. Therefore, his tactic was heartly listening to every need, fear, joy they wanted to share with him, giving them some hints when he could. He scolded them when they got into some bar fights, buoyed them to do of their best and praised them when they succeeded in it. This way, he earned their trust. He didn't have to barks orders because he knew they would've followed him anyway. The men soon started to consider him as someone to rely on, a sort of big brother. He kept the morale up, even when Sobel made it hard to do. He never cursed, never did, never will, but he would've used the worst words in the dictionary to describe that man. Despite it, he never badmouthed about the wimpy CO: it was helplessly. Look at you, he snickered inwardly, you could've reported his lack of expertise so many times, but you covered his mistakes, every time. He tightened his teeth but calmed down quickly: he could not blame him. He was sure Sobel knew he did not deserve Easy Company: he definitely didn't measure up to their physical state or to their knowledges about weapons and maps. He forged capable and brave soldiers, but he didn't belong there. Even his court martial was Sobel's last attempt to put him under a bad light, feeling threatened by the way the men seemed to admire him but he was sure he did not want – or at least, he could – get rid of him: how could've he leaded the men in war without his support? That was the reason he took up the gauntlet regretfully when Sobel decided to throw it. Somehow, it would've been the last battle and the verdict decisive.

Some more steps and he got on the top of the hill that so much resembled the Currahee mountain. Breathing in and out one more he spied to figures in the dark, recognizing by the shadows projected on the grounds the Malarkeys. He inwardly laugh at it because he was able to identify his men's voices in a crowded room and their shadows in the dark: it impressed him.

''Private Malarkey, Private Malarkey'' he saluted, breathing heavily.

''Lieutenant Winters, sir!'' they intoned in the same moment, looking awkwardly at their superior. They were of the same stature and possibly, they were twins: their hair was dark red, their eyes brown-green and shared the same facial features except for the jaw: Don's was defined and tough, while Jackson's was a tinder delicate and his nose more contained than his brother. Summarily, they were quite the same and both proved to be good soldiers.

''What are you doing outside at this hour of the night?'' the Lieutenant inquired but no trace of admonishment could be perceived in his tone.

''We just needed a stroll, sir'' Don urged to reply politely but his voice was shaking, which intrigued the Lieutenant.

''Is everything alright?'' he asked, staring both calmly but worriedly at the two. They frenetically exchanged some looks which bewildered their superior even more. He crossed his arms and arched a brow, waiting for the brothers to answer.

''Nothing sir, we just miss you a lot'' Jackson flattered, sounding somehow desperate ''it's so unfair you're relegated to mess hall'' he continued disgruntled. Dick was both flattered and worried to hear the words, while Don looked daggers at his brother ''he didn't mean such rudeness, sir, excuse my brother'' Don countered. Dick nodded flatly implying he was not offended. Still intrigued but tired, the Lieutenant saluted warmly, ready to run down the hill.

''What the hell crossed your mind, sort of smartass! You want us killed, say it!'' Don seethed breaking the night's stillness. The latter shrugged, sick-and-tired to hear the same words once again.

''It was just what we all think, Don, relax'' Jackson replied, acknowledging his brother would not.

''This is madness, madness I say!'' Don returned to yell. There was no way to make his brother loosen up when caught in his useless anxiety. Useless, he repeated himself, since there was no danger for them to be discovered. They went through two years of training, two years of living each day next to each other and nobody saw through it.

''I told you countless times: the less you open that motherfucking mouth, the more safe we will be. Is it that clear?'' he barked, one more time. Jackson had lost all his strengths to reply and just growled at that, reaching for a massive rock and sitting on the top of it.

''I must've tried some surgery on my vocal cords'' he snickered.

''I must've never let you join the army'' Don replied angrily with clenched fists. Jackson got up and trotted near his brother ''and is it that fair? Letting my brother go away to fight a war waiting relentlessly at home for your news?'' he pointed wryly, turning his back to him ''it's getting cold, let's just go to bed''. Don followed him, pacing aside him.

It heavied on Don Malarkey to be older than him even for only a bunch of minutes. He was the eldest among for brothers, their father died in a car accident when they were children and Don immediately assumed the charge of a father on him, but he was still so young. When the war began, he communicated sadly to his brothers and his mother he would've joined the army, so it was Jackson's turn to take care of them. He didn't reacted particularly, he just whished his brother good luck and took Don's place in running the family.

Jackson could look after himself. Don secretly admitted Jackson had a fine mind and he would've gone far if he only could. He always was the teachers' pupils and Don was always overshadowed by their praises about his twin. Jackson had been working since he was only ten to earn some savings: he already knew he wanted to attend university. ''It's not your place'' Don used to state, sadly considering that the world would've hardly accepted one of his kind to attend the highest grades of education; despite that, Don never put a spoke in his wheel: he felt a sheer proudness for his brother, and he knew their father would've been proud too. Jackson always was even more athletic than him. Actually, Don was a chubby teenager back in the highschool and lost some weight just some years before the war burst and he joined the Army, being at a better shape in that time. But, back in time, there was no surprise when his brother, definitely vigorous and agile, won the local athletic competition.

''I just wish Lieutenant Winters was back with Easy'' Jackson smattered, kicking something on the ground. Don just nodded in response: he missed the good Lieutenant too.

Camouflage was already his forte back then. Don accomplished appraisingly when Jackson asked him to exchange their I.D. cards: they were identical, nobody would've noticed it. Don always thought stupid how society admonished the women's capacities, surrounding them by senseless prohibitions; and they were senseless, especially when it came to his sister. So, Jane became Donald Malarkey so that she could participate to the competition but there was no way she could steal his I.D. again since he was enlisting too, so she created a new one and told nothing to her brother. When Don realized his comrade to be his sister, he whitened in pure fear and bewilderment. She just laid on the bed next to his and blinked coolly, unable to detect any danger from what she was doing.

Two years had passed and Don could not believe they actually made it through. Jane – Jackson improved some camouflage techniques: she showered first and fast and not so frequently, colored her vocabulary with rude words, covered her breasts. Nobody noticed a thing. Sure thing was, nobody could suspect anything when it came to physical exercise. She – he was one of the best, always ahead in her platoon giving hard times to Sobel when it came to find the minimum mistake. She denied everything she was, she cut her long and adored hair and became one of the toughest soldier the Company could claim to have.

''What's bothering you, Don?'' Jackson asked spotting his brother's blank stare.

''Nothing'' he shrugged and then smiled tenderly ''I was just thinking I haven't seen you wearing a skirt for years'' he chuckled patting on his shoulder in comfort.

* * *

''You guys hold me tight or I'll start a fire here and now'' Jackson grinned through his teeth, addressing to Joe and Bill and eliciting and a chuckle in agreement. ''Not without us, buddy''. The three kneeled down at the same moment. Thirty push-ups, fifty minutes of running, and finally running again, this time negotiating the obstacles. This was what Sobel claimed to be ''light training'', and to Jackson, Bill and Toye actually was.

''when the hell that quacker is going to get his ass back with Easy?'' Bill whispered breathing loudly, receiving just the sound of deaden chuckles in response.

The finished the training in the late afternoon. Awkwardly, their passes were intact since they made their utmost to satisfy every Sobel's command, successfully triumphing in the task. Cleaning off his sweat, Bill lurked with his two friends. ''Listen up buddies, there's this place in Albourne called ''The lucky corner''. I guess we should make a check on it tonight, uh?'' he blinked to his friend who nodded in agreement. Bill rubbed his hands in excitement, making Jackson rolling his eyes.

''Bill, before we get in any amusement, what did you have to tell us about Winters?'' Jackson said, reporting on Bill's mind the information he wanted to share with his friends.

''Yes'' Bill shrugged and looked conspiratorially behind his back ''there's a gathering tomorrow morning in the farm, all Easy's NCOs participating'' Bill exposit, catching Joe and Jackson attention. Bill lowered his voice and in almost a whisper explained ''we all sign a letter where we state we won't serve as non -commissioned officers for Easy Company unless we get Winters back with us and then we will deliver it right to our good Colonel Sink'' Bill exposits fiendishly but no trace of quivering could be remarked in his tone. Joe and Jackson's eyes widened, the two exchanged nervous looks eliciting a growl from Guarnere ''You both know it's necessary. I will not follow Sobel into combat and I know you feel the same way''. The two just sighed loudly, still uncoinvincedly looked at Bill but inwardly admitting what the Sergeant had stated. Bill received their good luck and then the three parted. Jackson rushed to the showers: he was already late and the boys would've soon come to do the same.


	2. Chapter 2

_I could not keep it anymore! It took a while to write this chapter (due to language problem, mostly) but I really appreciated doing it. Afterwards the first one, I wished I could depicted Jackson-Jane as struggled man, trying to understand how to properly behave. Still, he's a girl - and a young one - so I guessed Jackson did not have all the answers immediately. Besides, Don's profile took a while to be outlined._

 _Last thing, Winters is hard to portray, especially now. He is not supposed to know about Jackson so I struggled between the chance to focus on a Winters' reflection over Jackson or not._

Prior to the chapter, I wanter to thank (I do not know whether I should or not, but I really appreciate it) the followers/favs on the story. Thank you!

Ps. I'm not a native speaker (I'm going to make it clear always) so I apologize for the mistake there might be :/

* * *

Jackson stared into distance.

Sometimes he wondered how Bill and Joe would've reacted to find out his real name was Jane, and that they had in common less than they would've thought. As they met back in Toccoa they soon shared a genuine friendship. As the years passed by, they grew closer and became an inseparable unit. They knew almost everything about each other: where they lived, what they did before they enlisted in the paratroopers, why they decided to serve in the Airborne. They laughed when Jackson revealed he wanted to attend university, ''It doesn't suit you'' they snickered, and they were amazed when he instructed them about the plenty medals he earned by athletics competitions.

They surely didn't share the same feelings about women. Bill and Joe would've often come up with outright sexist considerations about the fine sex; Jackson's first reactions were clearly unpleased but he endured silently, until the day, by his own surprise, he blurted something that was really in the line with what Joe and Bill usually would've said about women. Sharing barracks with only men taught him that much. He knew how a man sounded like with a woman or without one, what he was supposed to feel, how he would've described it, on which detail he would've focused on while telling his buddies the story. Jackson knew he could somehow understand it, now. He would've made love how a man.

Truth was Jackson learned how to properly behave like a man – and a tough one – especially from his two best friends: Jackson beheld and studied gingerly how they ate, the way they held their weapons, how they swore or even sweated when they trained; Jackson knew how frequently they showered, how they opined about the whole war thing. He learnt a lot but it was quite difficult and shocking at the beginning, being introduced to such roughness: Jackson knew he had to give up to everything he trusted in, everything he was, denying himself, lying to himself.

Apropos of lying, that was exactly what he was doing to his best friends: despite he recounted all his experiences and opened up about his worries and ambitions, he never told them his most important secret. It was both for his and theirs sake…but would've they understood? They started to mean a lot to Jackson and he really wished they could share a long-life friendship, surviving the war and maybe starting something together when back in the States. He was ready to watch their back in battle and he would've risked his own life to save theirs without batting an eyelid. This – Jackson thought – was brotherhood; and he would've not wasted it just to relieve his soul.

''It's been almost an hour'' Joe considered. Jackson only nodded, shutting his eyes closed ''guess it doesn't portend any good'' he laid his back down on the wet grass receiving no reply from his friend.

The urge of running in Bill's direction imbued him when spotting his rogued figure strolling over him; sometimes, it was just so unnatural to admonish his real impulses. Real men don't run towards other men. Jackson just opened in a big smile waving his friend.

''Look Joe'' he pointed when Bill was already close to the two ''our buddy has still both his legs and arms. Impressive!'' he snickered wryly. They both got up to shake their friend hand in admiration for what he had just done.

''I hope you're carrying good news along with your arms and legs, Bill'' Joe added understandably antsy.

''I'm not sure about it guys'' Bill snarled crumpling nervously ''As expected, Colonel Sink only barked at us that he would've saved our lives since we are at the eve of our deployment, then demoted or transferred some of us. He did not say a word about Winters coming back with Easy''.

Jackson and Joe cursed at that. Their friends had valiantly risked their lives to demonstrate Sobel's incapacity to lead them in war and the need to get soon as possible Winters back with Easy but, as far as they know, their braveness didn't lead to anything good: they lost two good NCOs receiving nothing in return. At that point, they could just anguish over the way they could survive through the war.

''Come on guys, I'm offering you a pint'' Jackson ruefully concluding putting his arm on Bill's shoulder.

What they didn't know was Sink was astounded at the Sergeants' actions. Truthfully, rumors about Sobel's failures reached his ears. Lieutenant Colonel Strayer had recounted how the Captain had cut some benches causing the ire of a farmer who lost an entire afternoon trying to collect all his cows. Sink widened his eyes in unbelief and just drawled that they would've overlooked it. Sink had to admit he was downright wrong considering the Captain able to measure up to the standards he expected from the companies of the Regiment. The tip of the iceberg was the Winters case and considering the spreading disapproval grown around the Captain, Sink figured out he had to get rid of him, instantly.

Winters received the good news that day. It was midafternoon when Nixon bumped into the mess hall wearing a sharp look. He promptly instructed Dick on Sink's latest measures: Sobel was assigned to Chilton Foliat, Meehan was put in charge of E Company and Dick could finally be back with his men. It's not use to say he did not lose any moment of it: he moved all his staff back in E Company's quarters. When he entered the barracks, hopeful to find someone inside to give the good news, he remarked the room was completely empty. It was Saturday evening, he thought, and his guys probably were spending their night out. With no apparent reasons, Dick arranged his stuff quite cautiously, as he didn't want to cause any noise. When he finished, he breathed loudly actually happy to be there. Regretful, since he could not currently share his joy with his men, he opted to get a hot shower.

Jackson tried to breathe as silently as he could but anxiety was devouring him; what chances were there, that it was just his brother? There was a one in a thousand chances, actually. All he could do was staying there, wearing nothing but a towel all around his body. It was the end, sure it was the end. Jackson cursed once, twice, three times. It just didn't help anyway. There was no way he could just sneak out the showers without being noticed by whoever was in the barracks. His hopes to hear the man just leaving the place faded away when he heard footsteps coming inside the showers. The whole Jackson's body was quivering in dead fear; praying for a miracle to save him, he lowered his head and looked down to his legs and suddenly they didn't look as they always did to him: shaking, thin and graceful legs replaced his usual muscular and masculine ones mysteriously. Whoever was, he would've found out. Footsteps were softer now, which made Jackson guess the man was barefoot, meaning he was about to take a shower. Jackson cursed for the fourth time. And then, clinging at his towel with all his strengths, he saw redhair wearing nothing but his shorts but his first reaction was not to just run away.

''Lieutenant Winters'' he called, temporally forgetting the perilous situation in which he was ''what are you doing here?''

Dick was finally relieved to see a known face in there ''Private Malarkey'' he nodded strolling a bit closer to him ''It's nice to see you again, Private. I'm glad to inform you I'm back with Easy since today'' he announced proudly, expecting some kind of enthusiastic reaction from the soldier.

''Uh, that's fantastic sir. It's good to have you back'' Jackson nodded frantically gripping tight the towel covering him suddenty recognizing the incurring danger. And embarrassment.

Obviously, living for three years with men taught him everything he was not so eager to know about a man's anatomy. He had seen plenty of his friend shirtless and fully naked, trusting him completely. It was nothing wrong: they were all grown men, weren't they? Jackson got used to genitals just like anything else.

When it came to Winters, things were different though. Jackson had spotted – not from very close, actually - the Lieutenant only a few time without his shirt, showing off a muscular torso and strong arms; the mere view left him breathless, and it was quite sordid for a man having such reaction. He was not supposed to like it, he was not supposed to linger his stare on a shirtless Winters and so, each time, he struggled to look away. Somehow, he sometimes forgot he was actually supposed to like it.

It was quite different now, with Winters just a few feet away from him. Jackson pleasantly noticed how firm his shoulders blazes seemed and, right there, a drop of sweat was lingering. His arms were lean and strong, just like Jackson had already noticed a billion of times but, in that moment, the urge of just being held by those arms was stinging him. He could not simply look at him, as it was nothing. He could not just stare: Jane could not just stare, taking advantage of the situation. Still, Jackson looked.

Winters turned on the shower, waiting for the water to turn warm and, meanwhile, Jackson noticed he was gripping at his shorts: Jackson knew what was about to happen in there.

''Sir, it's late, I've got to go'' he snarled and before Winters could even utter a word, he rushed out of the showers firmly gripping at the towel still covering him.

Wearing his uniform as fast as he could to leave the barracks, Jackson noticed his heart was beating fast and his cheek were aflame.

Men don't feel attraction for other men. It was downright wrong.

He rushed out of the barracks.

He nearly made it, once again.

Jackson genuinely liked Lieutenant Winters. He was polite, always placid even when Sobel made it hard to do. He gave good vibes and Jackson trusted his capacities utterly. Bill was quite reluctant at believing he could lead them in combat. He always pointed out the man was a Quacker – unable to even hurt a fly -, claiming he was even too shy: ''how is going to fire his gun in action when he fears what the booze could do to him?'' Bill used to snicker mischievously. His considerations about Winters were completely meaningless. Dick Winters was a good leader, he just needed to show it off. Above all, Jackson knew he was a good man.

He was such a good damn man, the kind of man Jane would've appreciated to dine with. Sometimes, lying in her quarters, Jane imagined how dating Dick Winters could be. He was handsome and a gentlemen. She betted he had a fine mind since he saw him often carrying a book with him, and every time the cover was different. He graduated from Marshall University, so he must've been really smart. He was down-to-earth, his smile was tender and encouraging; his manners were gentle, his decisions seems to be always the most appropriate to take. He was pure perfection.

He was intelligent, smart. That scared Jackson the most. The other boys didn't notice when Jackson just disappeared or rushed to the showers; they brushed off the way his voice seemed to be higher than how it was supposed to be. Nobody remarked the way, once a month, Jackson seemed to sigh harder than ever while running, struggling with all his forces to make it to the end. Men – Jackson knew it – hardly notice the little details. On the other hand, Dick Winters was a different story. It happened sometimes to notice a trace of misunderstanding in the Lieutenant's eyes while looking at him. Once, he neared to Jackson and patted gently on his shoulder. ''Looking at you nobody could tell you are such a great athlete, Private!'' he congratulated proud but somehow, Jackson spied some kind of teasing in those words. It was rather embarrassing the way Winters looked at his figure while he was in his P.T. : he stared carefully at his legs, muscular but pinched. Jackson was unsettled every time Winters beheld at him, and it seemed to happen very often, quite always. He was a good observer: he knew his men by heart. He sensed their mood, their fear, their excitement and he was always there to tear them up, always spitting the right word. It was way uncommon for him to not catch the little details so the fact Winters hadn't got to unmask the unbearable truth startled him. Besides, Jackson couldn't let his guard down: he had made it, yes; but his fate was still on a thin line until the war would come to an end.

Pale, Jackson shuffled over his brother who was waiting outside their quarters.

''Where the hell you were?'' he asked upset. Clearly, he had waited outside for a bit. Noting how shaken his brother seemed to be, he put his arm on his shoulder and brotherly pull him close ''what happened?'' he inquired. Jackson swallowed hard, knowing that what he was about to tell wouldn't please his brother's ears.

''Lieutenant Winters is back with Easy'' he spitted, trying to soften the following words. Don opened up in a bright smile and gloated over Sobel's implied transfer. ''That's a good news, for Christ's sake!'' he exclaimed looking quizzically at his brother who still seemed flustered. He nudged at Jackson, urging him to continue.

''He entered the barracks right when I was taking a shower'' the latter muttered ''He didn't notice a thing Don, I'm sure. I guess he was just too happy to notice anything'' he urged to explain, noticing a mixture of range and tension growing on his brother's face. Don run both his hands over his face in anguish eliciting a growl full of angst. He glared furiously at his brother but, ready to start the ultimate fight, he was interrupted by Toye and Guarnere barking to hustle.

Jackson told his friends the good news which were pleasantly accepted. They still did not know who was taking charge of Easy Company but the mere fact that Winters was in and Sobel was out made the night just perfect and relieving. They toasted at the good news.

''To Winters'' Joe raised his pint, expecting the others to do the same, which they did. A grimace appeared on Bill's face: he still did not like the man at all, but he was please too to have him back ''To Winters'' he stated.

Things would've started to work from them, they were all sure of that. But, that meant something more than just having back a good officer.

''It's on, buddies'' Bill murmured, never staring at his friends and keeping his eyes on his pint instead. None said a word: the exciting and horrible consciousness imbuing them all.

* * *

Easy Company could claim to have one more promising officer through its ranks: Buck Compton.

He bounded close to the men immediately; he was genuinely present and sheer friendly. He got along well with most of the men but bounded with Malarkeys, Joe and Bill especially: they soon found out they had the same interests in common like sports, drinking and playing cards. They loved the same booze's brand and Buck surprised them all by buying a case full of it that surely costed a month's salary. Buck just made his possible to get close to the men and to get their trust before their adventure began and he found the easiest way to get directly to their hearts.

His ways did not please Lieutenant Winters, though. Jackson heard Buck complaining about how Winters scolded him for gambling; Winters admonishment was pointless to Buck and he soon started to embrace the common attitude towards Winters: the No-Vices and No-Flaws Man. Compton and Winters were just not the same. Buck was greeted as one of them but as soon as the bullets would've started flying it their eyes would've been settled only on Richard D. Winters.

Meehan – their new CO – was a great officers. They informed about him as soon as they got the news. He was smart and had a great knowledge about maneuvers. Still, he was recently arrived and Easy Company could not trust the man completely.

Thomas Meehan would've made a great CO.

Buck Compton would've been the friend they needed.

Dick Winters was the headlight.

Some may had not liked his ways but Dick Winters was their light in the darkness: this, they knew it for sure.

* * *

5th June 1945. They thought they day had come: they were mentally ready to climb on that C47. Some of the men cut their hair, some were queueing out of a makeshift toilette. A group gathered around a chaplain, holding to their rosary tight. Then, suddenly Meehan called the Easy Company to round up around him: there was rain forecast for the night so the mission was postponed of twenty-four hours.

It was shocking. It was sickening: postponing the mission had the effect to let the soldier brooding even more about it and it was useless, dangerous. Army always taught the same lesson: soldiers are not supposed to think, they act immediately. It would've been much better.

Jackson was deep in silent, watching a movie in a tent with his brothers in arms. He stared pensively at Bill and said a little prayer for his brother. When he informed of his brother's death in Montecassino, Jackson felt the instant urge to hug him tight in comfort but he guessed men don't act like that; he had not learnt yet how men react in such circumstances. It startled him when Joe, after a few minutes of silence and hesitation, warmly pulled Bill close to him; Jackson was now righteously allowed to do the same. The embrace they shared had nothing to do with virility; Jackson learnt that such masks fell when it came to things that meant more than just behave like a badass. It was a short moment of comfort for everyone.

* * *

Don Malarkey was not a heavy smoker but the tobacco's savor tasted so good in that damned night. The wind howled messing up his red locks. Don chuckled at himself and shut his eyes: lone in the darkness of the night, the moonlight lightened some soldiers not so far from where he was. It was perfect. He inhaled deeply and the smoke seemed to soothe his soul by filling every pore; exhaling was a relieving floating of fears and worries which were mainly about his sister. Or brother. He could not really tell at all. Don had seen Jane changing completely throughout the years that he could not recognize her anymore. It was like her sister had died years ago but he gained a brother in exchange; the fact was Don was not sure he wanted him. He missed the way his sweet sister would've pulled him tight to her in such circumstances. She would've spoken words of wisdom and hope because it was typically her: she was so lively, so smart. He had lost her already. Don said a little prayer – not to survive the Day of Days – but for his sister: he wished she could've found, somehow, the peace she aimed to.

''You smoked inside the tent, too'' a high voice admonished, revealing a lean figure stepping over him. Don chuckled.

''I thought you would've never said goodbye to your brother''.

''You are my family. How can I forget about my family?''

''You forgot yourself, dear Jane''.

Jackson's eyes widened, looking around to check whether someone was around. Then he sighed desperately.

''So, you want to face the you-woman-stay-in-the-kitchen topic here and now?'' he snarled nervously ''I don't regret it, Don. You know it, I don't regret anything.''

Don nodded and inhaled-exhaled again. It did not help to find the right words to say goodbye. There was so much he would've liked to tell but at the moment, all he could recall was a photo of him and his sister with their father: he was dirtied with soil playing with his toys while his sister wore a nice little dress he remembered it was pink. There was a time, in high school, when his sister wore those pretty dresses too, or long skirts; the boy she liked mocked her, calling him ''strange'' and so he reacted consequently: one day, he lifted the boy pressing his back to the walls and punched him into a strange face. Different times.

''My only desire is to see you happy. If this madness makes you happy, then I will be'' he gently stated taking his brother's hand in his and squeezing it. Jackson thought it was one of those situation when no one could claim holding a man's hand was eerie and sick, so he just let it go.

''I love you, Don.''

''I love you too, Jackson.'' Jackson chuckled at that. His brothers always encouraged Jane's dreams. He was a good man and he reminded Jackson of their father: in his eyes, he could remark the same gentleness he knew it belonged to his father's.

It costed a lot to him. Jackson looked around one more time and then smacked a kiss on his brother's check ''This came from Jane. She thanks you for all you did for her.''

''It was a pleasure.''

The two smiled tenderly at each other as they hadn't done for such a long time. Sweet and comforting smiles were not allowed in the Army, even when it came to brotherhood: it was mischievous. So many times Jackson restrained himself from sweetness, even to his brother. it was one of those things he could not bear about the men's world: how could they avoid such tenderness – so simple, so pure – that soothes immediately.

Jackson said goodbye to his brother but, before he could go away, he turned back to stare at him once again.

''Don, just one more favor.''

Don nodded.

''I may not survive, and it would be better, for both. But, whether I might be hit-'' Jackson paused. His heart was clenching in his ribs and he was gasping for air. He could: he had to calm down, to sound placid at that ''Kill me. If you don't, they will found out.'' Jackson hustled to get away from him.

Don was hanging agape and felt tears falling from his eyes. No, he was not like his brother. He could not simply sorrow his feelings: he was a man – a true one – and he did not fear his feelings. With teardrops lining his features, Don brooded over his brother's last words.

He was right.

It was better to be just killed than being hit. In that case, a medic would've taken care properly of him, and he would've undressed him by his uniform that covered the things he was most ashamed of. It would've begot dishonor to his name and to his Company. The fear of just being treated with coldness and disgust by his friends and his superiors, letting down the people he loved and admired, was something that could've not happened. It was even worse than just dying honorably.

Don Malarkey knew his shoulders were to be stronger than his brothers in arms'.

He would shot at his brother.

If the world was any different – Don thought – I would not.

He cursed, because that world – he realized- was hell, and pure madness and it lacked of meritocracy. If only the world knew about his sister and understands her reasons, he wouldn't have to kill her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Helloooo again! First of all, thank you for the reviews, follows and favs! I really, really appreciated them! So...let's get to the point. I've actually rewritten this chapter twice, entirely. It was a tough one and it is somehow a ''bridge''. Ironically, I've already written the next chapter - which I really loved writing._

 _So...here it's very, very late. I won't give you hell with all my notes here and I'll just go to sleep._

 _Ps. Feel free to report any mistake._

 _Pss. Let me know what you think (good reactions or bad, I don't really care :) )_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Jackson proudly thought that no so many women could claim to have survived the Day of Days. Just the name of it made him twitch: it meant ''show-time'', it meant fears and excitement, it was the moment to prove their training meant something and that they hadn't dropped in the eerie, bloodied sky of Normandy for no reason. They survived, and they succeeded.

They were all about to get awards out of their first baptize to battle. Bill,Buck and Jackson would've got a Silver Cross service, Winters was awarded with the Distinguished Service Cross. It was only a medal, something he would've wore only on his uniform, nothing more than metal but it meant a lot: it was Jackson's praise to have survived not only the Day of Days, but also his two years of training; it meant he could do everything, even going to the hell and back (and he actually did it, that day). It meant he was unstoppable and it proved – above all – Jane could do everything. It was a praise to her, mostly.

The most welcomed praises came from Lieutenant Winters. Afterwards reporting to Streyer, he rounded his small group of assault and, looking into their eyes firmly, he said ''I'm very proud of you.'' Jackson's heart twitched for receiving such words from the Lieutenant.

The confidence around the young redhead grew during that day. Lieutenant Meehan was missing along with his platoon so Winters led them in their first combat, and greetly.

Jackson and Bill were laying on the ground, their backs pressed against the wall of a half- destroyed farm,exhausted and somehow fulfilled. They observed Winters while reporting to Major Horton, this time.

''Not bad for a Quacker, uh?'' Jackson teased.

Bill gave Winters hard time during the day. It was not all about their Lieutenant, though. His brother's death was still stinging on his soul but Bill did not let it affect him: he was freaking to kill the Krauts, as many as he could; it did not matter if that meant disobeying direct orders or endangering the whole group. Eventually, he regained his common sense and focused on what was important.

''Yeah, buddy. Not bad.'' He snickered, causing Jackson to chuckle.

From that distance, Bill and Jackson were able to catch the Lieutenant's expression as the Majore wavered his salute and Winters was all by himself, simply standing in the middle of nothing and staring blankly at a point in front of him.

''It must be his lucky day, though.''

''How come?''

''Meehan is still missing. It seems like Easy Company will have a new CO'' Bill pointed, glancing at Winters.

The young Lieutenant ultimately looked around, seeming quite lost in the mess.

''I guess he won't relish on a promotion came from such horrible circumstances, though'' Jackson shrugged. Whatever happened to Meehan was terrible, but Jackson was happy to rely on such a good man as Winters.

''Come on, let's bunk. The boys have found some good booze.''

* * *

Jackson followed him to a Jeep parked near a little gothic church. He assumed that Normandy would've been such a pretty place to visit if they were in different times.

''This stuff smells like hell. Don, I've always known you weren't much of a chef but you definitely surpassed yourself '' Jackson mocked as he inhaled the unsavory smell coming from the slop.

''Lil' bro, shut up'' Don had a sip of it and tried to avoid to crumple. Yes, it tasted definitely like hell.

Buck took the bottle of cider from Toye's hands ''Malark, try not to get us all killed alright?'' he snickered. Don glared at the Lieutenant askance. They were just having a good time and making fun of Don Malarkey's cooking abilities helped a lot. The booze was not so good: it stank of fish and it burnt down their throat but they could not avoid toasting to that they were all still laughing at Don, Winters snuck under the blanket covering the back of the Jeep.

''Something's dying here?''

''Malarkey's butt.''

When Winters exposited Meehan was actually still missing and Bill pointed he was their new Commanding Officer, Winters didn't resemble to be very jubilant about it; they all figured out, instantly, he was not. Jackson felt the day affected the Lieutenant more than it seemed; his insights were confirmed as he watched with wide-eyes the Lieutenant taking the bottle of cider in his hands and drunk a gulp swallowing hard as the others exchanged funny looks at the view. Winters handed the bottled to Bill: the Sergeant toasted and took a gulp himself; what he was implying to do was toasting to them, and to Winters too. Prior to going away, Winters addressed one last time to Bill.

''Uh, Sergeant?''

''Yes sir?''

''I'm not a Quacker'' he whispered before fading away. They all burst in laughs, Jackson himself could not avoid it.

''He must be a Mennonite!'' Bill offered, and sunk even more in his laugh.

''Come on Bill, give the Lieutenant a chance!'' Jackson snickered.

At last, both Jackson and Bill called it at night, provoking the rest of the boys to protest.

* * *

 _It was not their first night maneuver, but it was the first they went under during the cold Georgian wore no winter clothing, they could not – obviously – eat or even drink. They would've spent their night out in the woods, bunked into their foxholes, waiting for a inexistent enemy. Was it useful? Bill did not know it at the moment, thinking it was the latest way Sobel's creativity devised to torture them. Normally, he would've not say a word: he was used to do what he was asked and not because he wanted to please his CO, but because he knew his forces would've let him do it, and he wanted everyone to know that the rugged body could go through the worst an laugh at it._

 _But Bill was not laughing at all. He was literally freezing but tried to deflect the attention from the way his teeth gritted._

 _''This man is freezing his ass out'' he barked at Joe, bunked in the foxhole near his and Jackson's._

 _''So what? We all are. You know what? Hug him if you wanna help.''_

 _Bill did not have any intention of doing it, but ''geez'', Jackson's body was twitching, that night, Bill understood two things and both that would've come handy in the future._

 _First thing, when outside it's cold, and in your foxhole it is cold, body's warmth can save your life and prevent hypothermia._

 _Second thing, soldiers – male soldiers – were supposed to not have boobies, but they actually did._

 _As Bill slipped next to Jackson, he embraced him and pulled him to his shoulder, covering the trembling body with his own jacket. He struggled to pull him even closer until Jackson's whole body was completely pressed on his._

 _''Jesus'' it was way too much for Bill's virility but Jackson's warmth was relieving to him, too, albeit there was something it peculiar. Bill had never known – how could he, anyway – how a man's body felt like but he thought that was not what it was supposed to feel like. Jackson was not the type of having pectorals and, anyway, those were too soft for being pectorals._

 _Bill knew how a woman felt like, pressed against his body. He had known it for a long time. The softness of the breast - his breast? – was maddening, the way he breathed was pure poetry. His weight was nothing on Bill. At first, Bill thought something was wrong with him, getting all jittery for a man. He cursed, thinking he was some kind of homosexual. Bill Guarnere? It couldn't be. In fact, it wasn't._

 _Bill caught a close eye on Jackson from that day on and he thought of being such an idiot to not have understood it way before._

 _Long and muscular legs were too gracious to belong to a male. His voice, so soft and high, was like a chirp. His arms were muscular, too, but too thin, too elegant and so little calloused. Finally, Jackson's face features were sweet, tender, his gaze was a comforting and gentle silent murmur of sweetness._

* * *

Bill was far away from Jackson when he went outside his bunk to would've like to know his best friend's real name. He assumed it was a gracious one, like Isabelle, or Anne, or Sophie. He always wondered if the stories he told – stories about stolen kisses from his girlfriend's window or about the fights engaged with his friends – were true. Did he actually know something about him (or her)?Pronouns, it was all about pronouns when it came to Jackson. Two years of training, two years of holding each other running Currahee throwing up the noodles with ketchup the Army passed as spaghetti, two years of sweating, and bar fights, and hangovers, and fears, and hopes: how could what he hid under his underpants mean something ? Truth was that slender, athletic and loud-voice human being – woman or man, whatever – was part of Bill: sister or brother, whatever. Joe, Bill and Jackson were an unity: they learnt to recognize their shadows in the nights, they watched each other backs, they jumped in the Normandy's leaden sky together. None of them could actually survive without the other: it was a matter of fact – Bill was sure. Taking a drag from his cigarette, Bill staggered idly over Jackson. The tender features of his face were raised, looking up something blurred in the sky,his cheeks red, his eyes sparkling.

''I guess I may like Normandy's summer breeze'' Jackson stated as he perceived someone behind him, knowing for sure who he was.

''Don't tell me you're cold'' Bill snickered ''or I may say you're a little princess in need of your silk cape.''

Jackson chuckled sheepishly tipping back his head. ''You know Bill, I'm very proud of myself and of ourselves. We behaved. It means that everything we went through was not effortless.''

Bill chuckled. The 6th of June was the day of days: the night the U.S.A. Army got to finally show off what what it was made of, their nights to prove their force, their braveness and skills. Nonetheless, Bill laughed inwardly considering that the man standing beside him was so brave to jump from a burning airplane but not enough to admit he was actually a woman.

Could Bill actually trust him?

''Jackson'' he called, his voice slightly trembling at saying that name knowing it was all a mask ''I'm proud of you, too. ''

Jackson smiled gently to him. Silence fell between them: the only noises heard were the bruises of men talking and laughing and the rumble of canons in the distance. Suddenly, Jackson turned to his right, as he was called by a voice only he was allowed to hear. Bill, intrigued, stepped back to see what Jackson was looking at. As he noticed their Lieutenant – crouched on a car far away from them and blankly staring into distance – Bill's mouth curled in a wry smile.

''Who are you looking at? Lieutenant Winters?'' he teased without getting any reaction from Jackson ''I may think you have a crush on him, my little lady'' he snickered again, this time trying to catch any sign from him that he had actually read through the lines. But Jackson was too good on deflecting his emotion – Bill knew it good – and did not let any emotion flow away from his face, just laughing at the obscenity and cutting the look from Winters.

''Come on, let's dig for the night'' he invited. Bill nodded and followed him in the dark.

* * *

When Easy Company secured the city of Carentan – quite easily – neither Dick or Jackson could know that right there, through the Norman hills, everything would've changed.

It all began there, in Carentan.

''That's all we needed! Lipton deadly hit!'' Bill barked dryly, huffing all around.

''Guarnere! I'm right here, still alive and with a gun'' Lipton demurred giving Bill a killing look.

Jackson huffed and patted on Lipton's shoulder ''C'mon Sergeant, we all know you're a big man! You'll heal fast.''

''Thank you, Malark'' Lipton countered.

Afterwards, the Aid station's door thrusted open under the weight of a staggering Lieutenant who entered quickly but silently, trying to not catch the attention on him.

''Lieutenant Winters, sir!'' Jackson exclaimed and rushed to his side taking his superior's arm on his shoulder so that he could steady himself.

''Thank you, Private'' Winters painted in pain as he – still helped by Jackson – managed to sit on makeshift doctor's. Promptly, Bill and Joe strolled over them.

''Sir, what happened?'' Bill asked.

''A sniper'' the Lieutenant exclaimed frowned, considering how naïve of him was wandering freely around a an open street, in the middle of a battle ''but it's nothing, really'' he assured.

''Let me check sir, so we'll know'' Jackson replied, hurriedly kneeling down on the Lieutenant.

Dick put softly his hand on Jackson's shoulder ''Private, since when you're a medic?'' he asked playfully.

Jackson, returning to his senses, got up and gave the Lieutenant a tender look. Bill – carefully watching – curled his mouth in a half-astonished and half-wry smirk. Oh, Bill saw it through it! He always did!

''I'm not, sir. I'm just worried about your health'' he exposited. This, made Bill grinning even more: he restrained himself from just nudging and to swap an amused look.

''Don't worry Private, I'll be fine.''

''For Christ's sake! As if it wasn't enough, our CO got hit, too! It seems like Easy company has fortune in spades uh?'' Bill barked again, receiving both Joe and Jackson's frowned looks.

''You guys just go, I'll be fine. Look sharp, we're preparing to their counter-attack.''

''But will you be able to come along, sir?'' Jackson asked sheepishly.

''Sure'' Dick shrugged ''sure I will'' he continued, not really believing at his own words. He knew it was nothing: just a scratch, nothing more. He could still move; the way he could move…well, that was another story. Dirk grimaced, considering he was not properly able to walk without staggering all around. How could he guide his men when he could be barely walk?

Eugène Roe capable hands cleaned the wound – wound, he used that terme, Dick noticed – and throw out the ricochet from his ankle. It was so gross a tiny little thing could cause so much pain, and difficulties.

The good medic could not simply and flatly tell a Commanding Officer to stay away from troubles or to avoid running – especially if that CO was Dick Winters: stubborn as a rock when it came to his own safety, he would've not stayed in a bed even if he were tied to it, and Roe knew that they weren't done yet in Carentan.

''You gonna be able to stay off it?'' he had to try, at least.

''Doesn't look that way'' Dick smirked. Roe knew at that point he could not protest; all he did was looking right in Dick's eyes hoping he would've got the words Gène could not speak loudly: ''you're not invulnerable (and this wound should be the proof) so don't try your luck. Look after yourself, for once. You can't be here and there, you can't rush from one of your men to the other revealing your position. You're not God, even though it could seem so since you have just made a miracle, giving a dreadful Private his view back. Well, if you think you're God, let me tell you you're not.''

Dick understood. He understood a little.

* * *

As already planned, the Krauts did not lose a chance and attacked the Second Battalion as it was spread across an upland. They took cover there, between the woods, waiting for the dark to fade away.

It was raining and – despite the season – the temperatures were downright low. Or maybe, the shivers running along Jackson's spine were due to the fact he was completely wet. He could not tell, but the fact was he was freezing. Eventually, Lieutenant Winters limped around the foxholes, checking on the men.

''Sergeant Guarnere, Private Malarkery'' he saluted, staggering over their foxhole.

''Lieutenant, how do you feel?'' Jackson asked promptly sounding quite interested.

''I'm fine, thanks for asking. You boys? Everything alright?''

''Yes sir, except for Jackson's irritating trembling that's keeping me from having a good sleep'' Bill blurted wryly, receiving a frowned look from a quivering Jackson, who had his arms crossed and was all crunched on himself trying to restrain his body warmth.

''You're cold, Malarkey?'' Dick asked chuckling, amused at Bill's complain ''you need a coat or something? I can give you mine'' he offered gently, kneeling down to them.

''Oh no, sir, I'm fine, believe me. It's just a little cold but I'll be fine'' Jackson urged to say before his Lieutenant could deprive himself of his last comfort; if comfort was even a word, of course.

''Alright. Behave, gentlemen. Good night'' Winters saluted, slowly getting on his feet and letting out a grimace of pain.

''Goodnight sir'' they intoned together.

As they were alone, and the rain was pouring even more, Jackson thought he could literally die. Bill gave him a look, noticing his teeth were gritting and all his body was an incessant shudder.

''Come here'' Bill ordered, pulling him harshly in his arms. Jackson looked at him questioningly and playfully asked ''you think it'll work?''

''Sure it will'' Bill barked ''at least, it worked the last time we shared a foxhole. You were quivering like a goddamn leaf.''

''Really? I don't remember it'' Jackson just stated, looking blankly in front of him trying to recall the memory. It was actually working. Bill was rugged, his warmth was even more effective than a coat, and his breathing on Jackson's head was leading him to the fairy tales' world.

Bill sighed ''You like Winters, don't you?'' Now, that was a now or never. The word was out and he could not retreat. Bill thought soon it was not the better way to face the topic.

Jackson shrugged ''Of course I do. Look at him: a ricochet in the leg and he's all around making plan and checking on the Company. We're lucky.''

Bill twitched in a smile. Of course Jackson knew how to handle certain questions: he had to learn how to not to feel embarrassed when his friends were talking about their girlfriends back home, or the ones they made love to in England. Probably, nothing of that kind could move him, Bill thought: so used to avoid every real feeling he had, it was useless trying to tease him hoping that a stare, a grimace, a tremble in his voice could betray him. Bill had to try best in order to hear the words he wanted. He did not know why: maybe it was just the situation recreating the time when he first discovered Jackson's secret, maybe the need of finally facing the truth was stinging him since the D-day when he – for no actual reason – really expected Jackson to come out. He could not find a reason to the urge of spilling the truth out of his friend, but what he needed was that.

Jackson was leaning in him even more. Who would've minded, however? It was cold and it was raining and they were all grown-men. Well, sort of. Bill smiled at his friend who resembled a child all cuddled up in his mommy's womb. All Bill could see of him was just his face: it was dirty and hard, but still graceful; his eyes were half-closed, but from his view Bill could catch the long eyelashes that gave to Jackson's look that freshness and liveliness that Bill could not remark in any of the Company.

''Jackson'' he whispered, receiving a growl in return ''I was just thinking, you and Winters, well…you can make a try, after the war. You know, I think he suits you. He's a good man. A Quacker, or Mennonite, but still a good fellow'' he exposited without teasing in his voice, as it was just a friendly suggestion.

Jackson widened eyes glared directly at him, his mouth crumpled in a disgusted grimace ''what the hell you're saying Guarnere?! I did not mean I like Winters in _that_ way! Mine was just a mere appreciation of his leadership!'' he hastened to explain ''I'm not a fucking queer, Guarnere!'' he finally spitted out with sickness.

''I know you aren't'' Bill said shortly, looking right in Jackson's eyes.

Goddamit.

Jackson started to tremble again, this time out of fear. He disentangled from Bill's grip and slipped away from his, as far as he could, looking at Bill with widened eyes.

''Hey, hey, don't be worried'' Bill whispered with his hands waving him to keep calm ''I haven't told anybody, even not to Joe. And, for your information, it happened accidentally. I pawed your boobies on a night maneuver, the one you were freezing your ass and I had this mad idea of hugging you'' he explained. Meanwhile, Jackson had managed to crouch down in a corner of their foxhole, trying to avoid any physical contact with him. His tearful eyes refused to look at Bill and the whole scene so grievous that Bill struggled to find the proper words. Jackson should've known it, for Christ's sake, that Bill was not so sentimental.

''Listen, I won't report you – or I would've already done it. Nor will I judge you. I just want you to be sincere. You are my brother, Jack. I feel hurt you didn't share your secret with me. I thought you trusted me. I trust you, why don't you?'' he explained tenderly. It must've worked, since he noticed Jackson's tensed muscles slackening a bit. It was not a rhetoric question: Bill was actually expecting an answer from him and kept his eyes on Jackson, urging him to say something.

''I trust you'' he muttered, still looking down '' I trust you.''

Bill sighed in relief for finally hearing his friend's voice ''so why didn't you tell me the most important thing about you?'' he asked, sounding harsher than he really meant to.

''Did I really have to explain it to you, Bill?'' Jackson finally looked at him, arching his eyebrow. He huffed. ''I would've put you in danger.''

''Bullshits.''

Jackson cut the look again and looked down at his hands.

''I wanted to tell you everything, believe me. So many times I would've liked to take a load off my soul and finally tell my best friends the truth. But I was too afraid you would've not understood, that you would've taken me for a fool, or worst: that you would've started to treat me differently, like a girl. As I was not good enough, strong enough to be her.''

Jackson tensed again feeling the tears filling his eyes. He struggled telling himself ''don't cry, little girl, not now.''

''Haven't you heard me? You are my brother, you are part of me. The same is to Joe. We survived throughout these two years holding to each other, living everything together. How can I look at you differently? You are my brother, you will always be'' Jackson looked at Bill: his eyes were full of gentleness and understanding. When Bill opened in a tender smile, Jackson rushed on him, hugging him tight.

''What's your name, Malark?'' Bill asked tenderly, pulling his friend even closer to him.

''Jane. My name is Jane'' Jane said, sighing and sobbing but finally relieved as she hadn't been in years. There was she, Jane again. She could be Jane again, even only for Bill.

''Jane. I can adjust to that'' Bill stated.

''You promise you won't treat me any differently?'' She asked with a puppy voice.

''I promise. You'll have no sales on the punches you deserve.''

''Good.''

It was raining cats and dogs, Jackson was completely wet, shuddering each time the Krauts fired randomly. Jane was warm.

* * *

Winters set the attack for zero-five-thirty. Jackson's platoon gathered around Lieutenant Welsh, ready to attack. Bill was next to him and, as promised, he did not behave any different: he did not lose the chance to find some irony in everything, even during those endless seconds, but he looked stoic as always.

Uampp.

''Mortars! Take cover!'' Jackson yelled, and suddenly they all fell laid on the ground, slipping in the nearest foxhole.

From behind, a staggering Winters emerged grabbing his rifle and ordering to take an objective and to fire. As the German tanks brushed off the woods, D and F Company retired, so Easy was now completely alone.

Winters still rushed in a frenzy from one soldier to another.

''Jackson, fire all you can!'' he yelled. Jackson didn't have to be told twice.

They all hung tough, even though they were alone. As Dick saw the Sherman tanks appearing over the hill, he realized someone was actually protecting them from above. Now, it was made. The latest shots were fired, but the German regiment – quickly decimated - retired under the American tanks.

Dick rushed one more time, checking on his men and encouraging them, but the most was already done and Dick was already savoring the moment he could just laid down on the ground, because his ankle was hurting like hell. Staggering one more time, he crouched down on a foxhole and yelled ''ok, go go!'', watching as the two soldiers lifted up quickly and ran away.

''Winters!''

Dick turned, ready to retire himself too. A kraut – shuddering – gripped his rifle, fixed with a sharp bayonet.

Jackson pushed Winters down on the ground. The Kraut promptly clenched his fingers around the rifle and pierced Jackson who simultaneously pulled his gun's trigger: they both fell on the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

_So, it's saturday evening and I'm stuck at home. Exams suck. Anyway, since I was getting bored, I decided to finish Chapter 4 and to publish it. What can I say... well, this chapter is going to change everything, both for Jackson and Dick. Henceforth, things are going to get more interesting and hard for both of them but, eventually, they'll get close._

 _I looooved the fact someone's spuring me to update soon, not minding about ''some mistakes here and there'' :') I really try to avoid them, trust me. I'm also trying to improve my English eveyday._

 _So...enjoy and let me know what you think! Have a good Saturday (you all, at least :( )_

* * *

Dick hadn't seen him coming.

When it came to fight, Dick almost forgot he was human, vulnerable. His men knew it already and Nixon let him notice it. ''You should see you out there, Dick'' he recommended. Dick had no idea of what he was talking about.

The thought he could be hit never crossed his mind when a battle was on and his men were in danger, because all he cared about was getting the target, whatever it was , and keeping his men safe, as far as it was possible.

He never thought it could've actually happened, but it was about to.

It was nearly finished and Dick was about to savor the moment the rumble would've finished so that he was able to just collapse on the ground, alive.

Then he turned back.

The shadow of a crouched figure was steeping slowly and silently over him, Dick thinking it was just one of his men; but he wasn't. Dick widened when he realized what the man was about to do: his whole body was paralyzed, unable to move for the shock.

It went all blank.

Strong arms pushed him down. Dick beat his head on a trunk. As soon as he realized how he got on the ground, he heard a shot and a thud of someone falling harshly on the mud, followed by the same thud almost immediately.

He raised on his elbows.

Jackson Malarkey, laid on the ground crumpling in pain and the blood floating from a point on his right thigh. His screams were a deafening beg of help, his both hands pressing on the wound were staining of a deep red.

He saved his life.

It took some seconds to realize it. Dick dragged his harmless and quavering body down in a rut and with all his breathe yelled for a medic. ''Stay with me, son, Stay with me'' he prayed him while Jackson was dying in pain.

''Medic!''

Blurred figures and noises were surrounding them. The war was temporally forgotten while Dick held his man tight in his arms.

''Sir'' he managed to whisper, trying to rise his head to near his superior's.

''Son''.

Roe rushed over them and bumped into the rut.

* * *

''It's deep, sir, but Jackson will recover soon.'' Roe assured him with a cryptical expression on his face. Dick run both his hands over his face ''Thank God, thank God.'' He was alive, the man who saved his life was alive ''thank God''. Dick made a few steps in direction of the door where Jackson was located but a firm grip to his arms stopped him. Dick looked at Roe questioningly. ''Gene, I've got to see him'', he just exposited, hopeful the medic would've understood. Roe let go of his arm and stared fluttered at the Lieutenant.

''Sir, there's a thing I think you'd want to know'' Gene muttered, lowering his head.

Dick was downright worried and swallowed hard, fearing the worst: a young and promising soldier whose life would've dramatically changed.

Dick could not imagine.

As he entered in the room, he noticed Don Malarkey sat on a tiny chair next to the bed, squeezing his brother's hand gently.

''Jackson is sleeping'' Roe explained and reached for one side of the bed, opposite to Don. All Dick could see was the body of a valiant and selfless soldier, lying in a bed in a pitiful state. He chuckled inwardly remembering a time when, back in Toccoa, Jackson resembled to be younger than most of the men but he was also lively, vigorous, with a sparkle in his brown-green eyes.

Dick shrugged, looking quizzically both to Gene and Don.

''What do you want me to see, Gene'' he asked, not be able to notice it by himself.

Then, never losing his gaze from Dick, Roe took away the covers from the bed, revealing what Dick could've not imagined.

Blankly staring at the bed, pale in his face, Dick murmured ''I've seen enough'' with his teeth grinned and slamming the door, he rushed out of the room.

* * *

Unpredictable.

Dick was an officer, he had always been one, but he had always been close to his men. He was part of Easy Company, he saw it growing, getting stronger. He went under the same critical times, he slaved away under Sobel's commands. He slept with his men, listened to every their desires, fears, secrets. He was the brothers' keeper. He had always been there, he betted he knew each of them better than he would've never known someone in a lifetime. He knew them by heart.

Impossible.

His men were mere war machines, and Jackson was nothing less. He had the same range, the same sprint, the same valiance of his comrades. Beyond that, he was thorough, smart. He spotted the little but relevant details, he knew all the maps by heart and studied carefully all the maneuvers. He was a great sniper, too; not as great as Shifty was – it was quite impossible to have Shifty's excellent aim – but he was good, too. He was a man worth to trust. He would've gone far, Dick knew it for sure.

Inconceivable.

Jackson wasn't rugged as his comrades but he was as strong as them. He drunk – a lot – and periodically he was engaged into bar fights getting just some eventual bruises, but always winning. He bragged about his love conquests. His swears were embarrassing.

Unbearable.

What the hell was she thinking? A woman in the Army, a paratrooper, a murder. Bastard, atavist. How could a woman even imagine to survive a war? How could she think she could manage a weapon? But she actually did, and greatly. Never a mistake was to be accredited to her, nor found Sobel any crease in her: her weekend pass was always intact. But how could she...

Dick knocked harshly his bed, once, twice. ''Fuck'', his lips cursed, and he could not believe his ears, but the curse sounded so liberating.

''Fuck'', he barked once again. And he was not a cursing man.

It was unacceptable. She had to disappear, instantly. Her presence would've heaved on the Army's honor. She would've been killed, for sure, and that would've been a righteous fate: she had made fun of the United States' Army for years.

But.

Dick was not convinced about what he saw. There were breasts, tiny and white, and his first instinct was to look away in embarrassment. But that breasts belonged to one of his men, and he had somehow the right to see. So, Jackson was a she. Was it possible? Was it possible a good and brave soldier – recently promoted to Sargent – was actually a woman?

That woman saved his life.

She did not think about it. She didn't hesitate. She did what neither a man was obliged to: she risked her life for his. Valiance was not supposed to belong to each men, just some had it. This time, valiance was to be put close to a woman's name.

So.

Dick struggled to refer to Jackson as a she. Jackson was a man, and a tough, bastard, selfless, brave one. How could he be a woman? He wanted to check on him again to study his body once more and meticulously because there was something completely wrong in all that. Truth was what it was, and Jackson had breasts. But it was hard to adjust to the idea. Jackson belonged to E Company, he was a great soldier.

''It can't be''.

He could not be a woman. Dick could not simply get rid of him. Jackson – the man – saved his life. Or the woman. The man or the woman? Dick was literally struggling, his thoughts a turmoil of entangled pronouns that were useless when it came to such prodigious qualities. Did the sex really count? For Pete's sake, Dick's consideration on him was not quivering: he kept on repeating ''my man''. Did it really mean something? What Jackson's real name was?

''Does it count?'' he whispered only to himself.

When he arrived at Jackson's room, there was a confusing turmoil of voices frenetically arguing.

''Come on Gene, we just want to see our buddy'' Bill protested, grabbing the small medic by his arms.

''What's happening here?'' Dick inquired, looking flatly to Joe and Bill.

''Sir, wants us to keep away from our friend, Jackson Malarkey'' Joe exposits ruefully and blatantly worried for his friend's fate. Dick wondered if they knew. He had always considered the three inseparable, just like he was to Lewis and Harry. They shared everything, looked after at each other like they were actually brothers. It was moving to see such soldiers – even Wild Bill Guarnere – worrying about their friends.

''Just wait outside for some minutes. I want to speak to Jackson alone.'' The soldiers nodded unable to protest to their superior's orders. Dick swallowed hard and opened the door.

Jackson wore a shirt and was awake, speaking to his brother who was still there at his bedside.

''Malarkey'' Dick addressed Don. The Private instantly got up from his chair, letting go of his brother hand ''Leave us alone.'' Don's anguish was perceivable; giving a short but antsy look to his brother, he nodded to the Lieutenant and did as he was ordered.

Jackson was now staring right into Dick's eyes. He didn't seem to shake, or even be worried. He firmly held the gaze and kept silent in respect of his superior, waiting for him to say the first word.

''How do you feel today?''

''I'm fine, sir. Eugène says I'll be back on my feet on a few days. He says I recover fast'' he explained flattery. He was placid, firm as always. Dick had never seen Jackson fretting about something: even in the worst situations, his nerves were always firm, his mind was able to think reasonably.

''What's your real name?''

''My name's Jane Malarkey, sir.'' Dick was the only one fluttering in that room. His hands were shaking and he betted he was not able to keep the soldier's gaze anymore. There was something right in what she was doing: she knew it, and she had no intention to state the contrary.

''You dishonored the United States Army with your behavior'' he snarled grinning.

''I know, sir. I'm sorry for that.'' she replied, her eyes still set on him ''but I don't regret doing it'' she stoically added. Her gaze was sheer placidness and lingered on Dick. Jane – or Jackson, whatever – was estranged, firm, fierce in her bed while Dick was rushing nervously from one side to the other of the room, thinking cautiously to each word to use. Why did it feel so right? Why was she so stolid? Did she know what could've happened?

''I should report you to Colonel Sink. I guess you are warned about the consequences of your actions'' Dick exposited, struggling to sound estranged but letting his voice go out in a shudder murmur of insecurity. It felt so wrong. Dick's eyes widened again noticing the woman staring at him flatly in consideration and then shrugging but seemingly, she was not concerned about what would've happened next. It was impressive.

''I understand, sir. I can't blame you for doing your job'' she stated. Dick laughed without mirth: it was a long, eerily laugh of a mixture of feelings: angst, regret, proudness and respect for the woman he saw. She was authentically a soldier: stoically resisting, never retreating.

''Why hadn't you ever told me?'' Dick whispered desperately. Angst was floating out of him where the curiosity of simply comprehending her reasons was even stronger.

This time, the question seemed to move slightly the woman's steadiness ''You would have not understood, sir. No one can'' she said gritting her teeth, this time letting go her gaze from the Lieutenant.

''Of course I can't!'' he barked, desperation still lingering in his voice. As she just kept her silence Dick shrugged callously, urging her to continue. But Jackson – the man, not the woman – had proved to be a good soldier, and good soldiers speak only when they are ordered to.

''Tell me why you did it'' he commanded, and Jackson – the man, the soldier – obeyed.

''When I was ten I told my father I wanted to be a judge and consequently I wanted to attend university. My friends used to make fun of my stupid ambitions since I was a girl, and girls can't dream too far. But his reaction was different. My father looked gently at me and folded my head, and then he told me ''You'll have to work hard, honey, but you can do whatever you want.'' He didn't let me down, he trusted in me. my father died two years later'' she exposited point-blank, peeking out of her window into distance in recalling of her father's words ''I've never considered my capacities to be more or less valuable of a man's. I'm as smart, as wise, as strong as a man. When I heard my Country was engaged in a war, I reacted as each men in my town and embraced the weapon'' she added. Her eyes were challenging him to point out the contrary. Dick was sure – it was ingrained in his beliefs – she was wrong, that a woman could not simply do everything a man could. It was the way she was reacting to his accuses that should've worried anyone but not her. Instead, she was provoking him firmly, not giving up on her beliefs.

Maybe.

Dick shrugged and shook his head. Maybe she was right, not totally right but partly. Dick was still looking at Jackson, and it was Jackson speaking, it was Jackson saving his life. The woman lying in the bed was not a woman: she was his man. And, since he was his man, he could not get rid of him. And, since he was his man, he could not be court-martialed for being a woman.

Because, the woman lying in that bed had nothing less than the others.

The woman lying in that bed saved his life from certain death.

''You knew I was about to find out. I guess you knew I would've found out if you got hit.''

''Yes, sir. I had already concoct with my brother that he would've killed me whether I got hit'' she explained, the firmness in her voice still shaking Dick's security.

''Still, you saved my life. You risked everything for me'' Dick stated, more to himself than to his listener. Deflecting attention from his life, Dick realized the relevant point in all that story was Jackson's life, not his. Jackson acknowledged the consequences of his actions and still, he consciously endangered his health and honor to save Dick. It was real selflessness because that gesture came from someone who had everything to lose and nothing to gain: it was disinterested.

Dick Winters could not claim to be God: he had no powers to judge one's actions. He could not question what Jane did; instead, what he could still do, was forging the man he was standing in front of, making a great soldier out of him. Dick, right and there, undertook himself he would've done whatever was in his forces to make Jackson – the man, the soldier – survive through the war.

He owed him.

''You're receiving a Purple heart out of your action, do you know that?'' Dick asked.

Jackson – the man, the soldier – nodded. ''And a court-martial, sir''.

''No'' Dick declared abruptly ''no you're not. Instead, you're also getting a promotion. I talked to Lieutenant Colonel Strayer before I knew about your secret. Congratulation, Sergeant Malarkey.''

''Sir?'' Jane looked questioningly at him.

''I won't report you, Jackson. I won't let one of my men going in a court-martial and I won't have your life heave on my soul. You saved my life, and for that I owe you everything'' Dick explained steadily. Jane was agape, feeling her eyes burning, on the edge of tears. Never she would've bet Richard Winters could be capable of disobeying the law. Still, she could remark by the tone of his voice that was a struggled decision he took and that he was not sure about it; moreover, she had heard his voice trembling for what – she could guess – was some kind of disgust and disappointment. His eyes were a tad narrowed and he had barely looked at her in the eyes during the whole conversation. Her heart twitched since she knew she had, somehow, let him down. Her sex was a monstrous, obscene and impure fact. Sighing heavily, Jane withheld the tears coming.

''Thank you, sir.''

''Well, get well, Jackson'' Dick said and turned sharply to the door, feeling the urge to run away from that sight.

''Sir?''

''Yes, Sergeant'' he said, blatantly bothered for being restrained there.

''Are you-'' Jane hesitated ''I hope you're not mad at me, sir. I ask you to not let your trust on me affected by what I am.''

''I'm not mad, Malarkey. How could I be. You saved me, risking everything for me. I'm disappointed. You lied to me for years. '' Dick stated matter-of-factly feeling his voice trembling in his throat ''Trust. What do you mean by trust? I'm confident about your skills. Trust…well, it is another story.''

''I understand'' she replied firmly but, this time, Dick noticed a slighter clamper of sadness in her eyes.

Dick sighed half-heartedly, more because of his incapacity to arrange to react properly to the awkward situation. He did not want to cause her any harm or worry – even though his common sense whispered in his ears he had all the rights to be mad at her or to simply sulk – but he knew that he could not act any different just because Jackson was actually a woman: first, to protect her, second to just forget all the story. But it was so hard to him to find an equilibrate point.

What would've he done if he had never known ? What was he about to do or say when he entered that door and he didn't found out anything yet?

Dick walked over her bed, standing to its side ''As soon as you'll feel better, I'd be glad to see you back on training, Sergeant. The Company needs you now more than before'' he professionally stated.

''Sure sir, I'll be back as soon as Roe will let me do it.''

Dick nodded a bit sheepishly. That was a good beginning, he though; one of his man was wounded and he wanted only to be sure he was fine. He did what he had to so he could be discharged now.

''Then again…Thank you'' he left her no time to reply and rushed out of the room.

There, in the entrance hall, there was the same turmoil he met when he first came: Toye and Guarnere were still arguing hard with the medic, insisting on visiting their friend.

''What's happening here?'' he inquired.

''Sir, please, can we know see our friend? Why won't you let us do it!'' Joe cried exasperated.

Dick peeked something indistinct behind them, trying to plan the best excuse he could give.

''Boys, be patient. Your friend is seriously wounded even though he's healing fast. If you want him to fight this war again, you have to let him rest. Just a few days and you will see your friend again, I promise'' he reassured, hoping to appeal to their desire to have him back.

''Sir, please, just for-'' Joe kept protesting whining.

''I said no. And this is a direct order, Corporal'' Dick glared at the two harshly, whishing this time he had made himself clear and that they would've not tried to sneak in the room. ''Easier said than done'' he thought inwardly: he knew that somehow they would've surely tried to see Jackson. Obviously, he could not let them do it.

''Gène'' he called, motioning to follow him away from them .

''Sir'' Gene was visibly upset, not knowing where the conversation would've ended.

''I'm putting one guard at the door. You yourself try to watch out'' Dick pointed his finger to him ''I don't want anyone to enter his room, except for his brother obviously. Understood?'' Dick asked, more as an order.

Gène looked questioningly at him ''So, sir, you won't report?'' he asked startled but blatantly relieved.

Dick sighed hard, glancing at the door behind him ''I won't. Jackson Malarkey belongs to Easy Company as much as you and I. I can't permit one of my men to go under such unpredictable and surely terrible consequences.''

Eugène nodded, flashing him with a happy smirk on his face ''As far as you mind, sir, I think you're doing the right thing.''

The words soothed Dick immediately. Eugène was a good man, one of the best. He was wise, cautious, and seemed to do always the right thing. No question his approval did him some good.

Dick nodded, telling him to stay there until the guard would've arrived.

''Sergeant Malarkey'' Jackson declared proudly.

''Yes, it sounds good, doesn't it?'' Don chipped with a cheerful smile ''never thought we would've gone so far. Well, it's not actually so far, but it's a good point.''

''Hey, I'm very proud of ourselves. Even though the latest turmoil, we still keep our honor high. We Malarkey are indestructible !'' Jackson pointed mirthfully smiling.

''Yeah…well. I would've never expected Lieutenant Winters to turn so sensitive. I mean yes, he's a good man but…I would've never thought he would've gone against his goddamn protocol, especially for your circumstances.''

Jackson crumpled in a thoughtful grimace ''well, I guess he's really attached to each of us. We're so lucky to have him.''

''Did he keep on visiting you?''

''Yes, he did. He actually comes in, salutes and then tries to stay as far as possible from me looking blankly at something and just brooding relentlessly'' he explained in an apologetic tone ''I think he's very troubled.''

''Well, can you blame it on him? Of course he will need time to adjust to it. Lieutenant Winters is too much of a gentleman. He may also think it's inappropriate for him to let you fight a war, you know.''

''But he told me that I was part of the Company and consequentially I would've keep on doing my job!'' Jackson protested against his brother's assumption.

''Hey, calm down, that was just an option. I don't know what he's going through but I admit he's behaving weird during the last few days. But it's likely because of the all war thing, you know, usual problems.''

''Yeah, I guess so'' Jackson smirked, still a bit frowning ''But I did not want to let him down, Don'' he whined.

''I don't think he's disappointed or something, actually'' Don hastened to explain ''it's just... don't brood about it too much, he just needs to adjust to it, as I told –''

The door opened abruptly and a hurried Bill Guarnere entered.

''Hey you there!''

''Bill!'' Don got up abruptly from his chair ''what the hell are you doing here? There are two guards outside!'' he barked with his eyes wide-opened.

Jackson scolded himself inwardly: he hadn't told his brother yet that Bill had discovered his secret and he definitely knew Don wouldn't exactly throw a party at the news.

'' Well…let's say I have remarkable sneaking abilities'' he winked wryly ''They don't let us see you, my friend, we're downright worry. Winters keeps saying you're healing but I wanted to check personally.''

Jackson sweetly smiled at him ''Bill, Winters says the truth. The wound is almost healed. I'll be able to get on my feet in two days, just in time to get back to Albourne'' he exposited gently.

Don was literally shaking in fear and stared frenetically at his brother and Bill ''Jack! He can't stay here! You know this!'' he tried to whisper, glaring all jittery at Jackson.

''Oh c'mon Malark, guards are out there just because Winters don't want anyone to see your brothers' boobies. I know everything so it's ok'' Bill groused leaning his back on the wall ''I just wanted to check on my buddy.''

''Wait wait wait…you know?!'' he drawled hysterically to Bill. Turning to his brother's side, he lifted his finger and exhaled angrily ''What the hell is on your mind?! Spreading your secret around?! Now?!'' he chided. Jackson snickered at how funny Don's voice was, hitting high notes.

''Hey hey, Don, cool down. Don't blame it on him…well, her. I discovered it by myself, about one year ago. So keep calm'' Bill protested firmly. Don was still looking at him with wide, angry eyes, but slowly he slackened a bit.

''Don'' Jackson gripped softly his brother's arm ''why don't you leave us alone for a while? I need to talk to Bill, privately.''

Don flashed him a frowned look and then shrugged ''alright''. Afterwards, he waved a salute and left the room.

Bill smiled tenderly at Jackson ''so, buddy, how do you feel?''

''I'm fine, really. It doesn't hurt anymore. Actually, I don't know why Eugène is still keeping me here'' he shrugged ''were you two worried?'' he asked, hinting to both Bill and Joe.

''Of course we are. We are all worried about you.''

''What about Joe? Did he-'' he paused, not knowing what he really wanted to ask ''did he say something?''

''What was he supposed to say? No, he just doesn't accept Winters' decision to keep us away from you. He said it was for your sake, so you would've healed faster.''

''Does Joe suspect anything?''

''No, how can he? He just can't explain Winters's behavior. Neither I can, actually'' he pointed wryly ''can you please telling me what happened? I can imagine Winters knows.''

Jackson sighed heavily ''Yes, yes he knows.''

''And I heard he promoted you. Oh, talking about that, congratulation. But…isn't he going to report you?'' Bill asked with narrow eyes.

''No, he isn't'' he replied dryly, peeking out of his window pensively ''Don't ask me why, but he isn't.''

Bill crossed his arms and make a face of cautiously thinking at what Jackson had just said ''Well, that's impressive for .''

''Yeah, I know'' Jackson countered sarcastically ''he keeps visiting me. He enters in my room, sends my brother away, asks me how I feel and then looks thoughtfully at me our out of the window for what it seems a lifetime. He's acting weird, really weird.''

Bill shrugged considering Jackson's point carefully ''Well…when I said we don't understand his behavior I meant the same thing…He's weird, even during the training. He gives us order to go here and there and to do this and that. Then, he just stares blankly at something, like lost.''

Jackson grimaced at that pensively ''Bill, I don't want to fend him off. I don't want to cause to him any trouble and I think this story is affecting him a lot. Maybe, going against the protocol is too much for one of his kind. Or… I don't know, I don't know what his problem may be'' Jackson vented worriedly.

Bill walked over his bed and sat on it ''Don't worry, everything is going to get better when you'll be back with us, training. He'll forget you don't have a dick when he'll see you cursing like a sailor'' he snickered eliciting a growl from Jackson who hardly believed it.

''Look what the train brought in ! Malark! We thought Winters would've kept you all for himself!'' Liebgott exclaimed staggering over Jackson to shake his hand in saluted.

''How are you doing Joe?''

''I'm fine, glad to go back to England I guess. But what about you? I tried to come to see you but two brutes stationed at your door said Winters ordered to not let anyone in.''

Jackson shrugged evasively ''I know…well, I think he just wanted to let me rest for a while, you know'' he exclaimed frenetically while catching a figure coming towards them from behind Liebgott.

''Joe!'' Jackson exclaimed waving his friend a salute.

''Malarkey!'' Joe patted Jackson's shoulder firmly but friendly, looking gently at him ''how are you, bro?''

''I'm fine, Joe. I know you tried to come…I'm sorry for Winters.''

''Yeah, I'd punched that face well when he barked I couldn't check on my wounded buddy. He's acting mad, believe me'' Joe stated both angrily and worriedly about his superior's behavior. That consideration coming from Joe just stung Jackson's stomach: too many times he had heard complaining about Winters. Jackson was starting to fear he could've lost his focus just because of him.

''Maybe he just needs to relax, too'' Jackson only countered.

''Well, we all need it. Glad we're coming back in England.''

Jackson patted on his friend's shoulder motioning to him to climb on the ship that was about to bring them back to Albourne.

On the ship, Jackson glimpsed Winters' presence and he was caught up looking rightly at him. The Lieutenant was enjoying Nixon and Welsh's company. He was showing off a big smile while Nixon was all taken in telling his funny story. When they were around, Winters' guardedness fell instantly: he smiled genuinely and showed his normally hidden sense of humor. He seemed somehow younger, with his eyes shining and his face enlightened by happiness. Jackson unconsciously smiled at the sight, remarking nothing weird in Winters' behavior. Then, as he had perceived someone was staring at him, Dick caught his eyes, and his face darkened immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

**Heeellooo everyone! I'm back!** _I hope you won't hate on me, but I had exams and so I had no time to post/finish the new chapter. Actually, I still have exams but I felt so guilty - and I could not keep this chaptet for myself anymore - that I found some time to finish it. I promise I will try to update sooner, promised!_

 _So...let's get to the point. This is a very, very long chapter. I don't know whether I should consider it a ''bridge'', but let me just tell you that things will get more interesting between Dick and Jackson!_

 _I really hope you'll like so...please, let me know what you think!_

 _And...Thaaank you for the follows/reviews/favs. I loved them!_

* * *

Dick's position was complicated. Toccoa's men had to adjust to the replacements' presence, just arrived from the States to replace their wounded or dead friends. It wouldn't be easy, especially because the replacements resembled like little puppies and they had no idea how to hold a weapon. Dick had to recreate a real war's environment, illegally and secretly using real mortars and grenades during their maneuvers. It was dangerous but still Dick thought it was the right thing to do: those kids were totally unaware of what was awaiting for them in the continent.

Mortars and grenades were harmless compared to his men. Call it a sort of baptize, whatever you want, but the Toccoa's men went hard on the replacements, hitting on them harshly.

All became so hard to handle, and it heaved all on Dick's poor shoulders. He was promoted to Captain and he was downright proud of it; though, consequentially Easy relied on him and he had the responsibility of those men.

Dick thought he had never felt so alone in all his life.

As the weight of a whole company wasn't enough, Dick was still struggling about how to handle all the Jackson's story. He decided he would've not reported her, and that was for granted, but Dick was uneasy at the thought of sending a woman into a fight. He was planning an excuse to put her far from the front line, giving her a promotion or something and he would've already done it whether Jackson hadn't been so necessary to the company. Jackson – and not Jane – was a Toccoa's man, heart of the company along with him and other soldiers that built Easy's fame. Moreover, he was a great soldier, one of the best. Smart and strong, Jackson had proved himself to be a good sniper: he actually got a lot better during the last trainings. The company needed it, especially now. Dick came to that conclusion: he did not want Jane to be there, but he needed Jackson.

Dick was in his room, musing about everything; he ran his hands over his face, rubbing his idly his eyes. It was late and he was tired, but he did not want to go to sleep; what he really needed was talking to someone.

He had made a try of talking to Eugene, but unsuccessfully. He liked the good medic, he was wise and he could give good tips but he was not exactly one of his close friends and he felt uneasy to open up with him; after all, he was one of his men, too, and he could not burden him with his problems.

What Dick needed was venting: he needed Lewis. Dick imagined – he actually knew it for sure – Lewis would've listened carefully to him and would've found a way to cheer him up: his typical sarcasm could not be the answer to his problems but it would've helped – it usually did. But, this time, he could not count on his best friend's wry and friendly look. Dick could not exposit to Lewis his troubles due to Jackson's real sex.

''Enter'' he hurriedly said when he heard a knock on his door. The frame of a staggering Lewis Nixon was holding high his flask, making Dick know what he came for.

''You know where it is, just take it'' he dryly said making Lewis looking at him askance.

''Who pissed in your coffee, my friend?'' he piped out wryly.

''Lew, it's not time for joking'' Dick admonished, never leaving his stare from his friend who kneeled down on his footlocker extracting a bottle of Vat69 from it.

''It's not time for joking'' Lewis lampooned ''it's never time for joking since a while, Dick'' he added, this time seriously ''what's wrong with you?''

Dick rubbed his eyes frenetically ''Nothing'' he hedged, prompting Lewis to look at him gingerly and intrigued.

''C'mon, tell your friend Nix what's crossing your mind'' he drawled ''is there a girl?''

Dick huffed, thinking that Lewis always saw it through. He was the intelligence officer for a reason, after all.

''There is no girl, Lewis. It's just war, you know'' he pointed wryly.

''You can't fool me, my friend'' Lewis pointed jauntily, gulping a long sip of whiskey down his throat. He paused, resembling to ruminate about something ''Look, Dick, Harry and I noticed that something's troubling you. You stare blank at things, you stay silent for endless minutes musing over something. What's wrong?''

Dick fretted, deflecting his stare from Lewis but didn't say a word. Lewis, noticing how his friend stiffened, made a last try ''Is it about Jackson Malarkey?'' he asked almost sheepishly, remarking a grimace on his friend face ''I know you took great care of him, visiting him back in France. How he is?'' Lewis teased, knowing he hit the bullseye.

Dick shrugged callously ''he's fine. The wound is healed, he's back on his training with the men'' he flatly replied, crossing his arms and never looking at his friend.

''Well, he was impressive, saving your life and risking his.''

Dick wondered whether Lewis knew. He was the Intelligence officer and had remarkable scrounging abilities. If he wanted something, he got it; and if he needed to discover something, he had his ways.

''Why did you put two guards at his room? I mean, he saved your life but it's not like he's Roosvelt, you know.''

Dick shrugged again, huffing. Darn it, if Lewis hadn't already known, he would've gotten Dick to spill it someway. The fact he knew him so well didn't help.

''I just wanted to make sure he could rest in peace so that he would've recovered soon. And it worked, as far as I can see'' he boomed sounding sterner than he actually meant to.

''Alright'' Lewis stated, tottering over the door ''you don't wanna talk about it. When you feel like venting, you know where to find me.''

* * *

''Goddamit, Malark, what did they give you in the hospital? Steroids?'' Perconte whined the moment Jackson threw him on the ground.

''I rested a lot, Perconte'' Jackson wryly said winking, holding out his hand to Frank to help him lifting up ''Come on, hurry up before Winters notices you can't even send to the ground a wounded man'' he joked playfully.

Frank smacked him playfully and then his head motioned to him to look on his left. Cobb was giving hell to one of the replacement, wrenching him and insulting him unfairly.

''Duty calls'' Jackson said with rounded eyes, walking away from Frank and strolling over Cobb ''Cobb, what's the problem here?''

Cobb was crouched on the poor replacement how already had a black eye. He gave Jackson a mischievous smile and lifted from the trounced kid ''Sergeant, it seems like the replacement hardly can defend themselves'' he said gloomily, spitting on the ground ''kids'' he added disgusted, as it was an insult.

''That's not a good point to punch him unreasonably, Cobb'' Jackson sternly scolded, crossing his arm ''C'mon, you can train with Frank Perconte, leave the kid to me'' he ordered.

''You can't do this'' Cobb boomed, mispleased the Sergeant was about to take away his toy from him.

''It's an order, Corporal. Go'' Jackson drawled. Cobb shrugged callously glaring to Jackson and staggered silently in Perconte's direction.

''Everything alright, son?'' Jackson asked gently, helping him to lift up.

''Yes Sergeant…Cobb is beating me up since I arrived'' he replied, clearing his uniform from the dirt.

''Don't give much credit to him. Cobb has already fought in Africa and he came back a little nasty from there. I can't blame it on him, sure, but I reckon he lost all his humanity back there'' Jackson exposited ''What's your name, son?''

''Miller, Sergeant.''

''Ok, Miller, let's start from the basis.''

Dick was beholding from his position, glad that he could rely on men like Jackson in the Company: it made his task a tad easier knowing that someone else was contributing to keep the peace among the Company. Beside, Jackson knew his ways to let his voice be heard. Dick opened in a tiny smile which disappeared in the moment he remarked the Private sending the resilient Jackson – but fragile Jane – to the ground; Dick brushed through the other soldiers frenetically, and rushed over them.

''Everything alright here?'' he asked worriedly, studying the Sergeant who was still on the ground. He was laughing with the Private coolly and Dick did not notice any crumple on his face, assuming he didn't get hurt.

''Yes sir'' Jackson promptly replied lifting from the ground ''Private Miller here is improving visibly. We'll make a good soldier out of him'' he exposited proudly, patting gently on Miller's shoulder.

''Sergeant Jackson is teaching me the correct-''

''Yeah, I see I see. Ok, carry on'' Dick interrupted, sighing heavily and leaving them as soon as he got there. Miller stared sheepishly at Jackson ''did I say something wrong, Sergeant?'' he asked antsy.

Jackson mused on the question and on Winters' attitude ''No, Private. Captain Winters is been a tad on his nerves, recently'' he said flatly, staring into distance at the Captain ''Alright, let's get a move.''

* * *

Dick waved a salute to and printed a sweet kiss on ' cheek and left the house in the Albourne's dark night and cool breeze. It was uncommon for him to hang out on the evening: just telling The Barnes he would've go out for a walk left them a little agape and it sounded quite unfamiliar. Anyway, Dick needed to stop his brainstorm or, at least, to brainstorm somewhere else. His hands in his pockets, Captain Winters felt all alone in the Albourne's streets: the lights in the houses and in the pubs were on and noises from the inside – of men laughing broadly or arguing – could be heard. Dick chuckled inwardly, thinking his men were likely getting drunk and being involved in some bar fights in that very moment. Sometimes, Dick mused on his incapacity of just enjoying himself once in a while: he was old just as his men and he was supposed to do the same things they did; this didn't automatically involve drinking or flirting with the local girls: a simple night out with his friends Lewis and Harry, even in a bar, laughing hard at their speeches made out their desperate drunkenness would've been enough. Recently, even that option seemed too impossible and not because he lacked of time. It was the weight of the responsibility: guiding an entire company into a war, supporting a great secret on his small shoulders: he did not know he could actually keep all that. He mused a lot, trying to find a solution, trying to outline planes, strategies, new ways to train his men, some reasons to pull a girl out from that hell, but unsuccessfully.

Defeated, regretted, worried he assessed he was finally out of his room, out of his office: somehow, those streets meant social life. He could try.

Dick was sure Lewis and Harry were likely in one of those pubs – as every Friday night. He tried to recall the name they mentioned very often: they talked about a green light inside – psychedelic to their humble opinions – and consequentially he tried to peek the lights coming from the small windows of some pubs on the street where he was. Finding it, he wondered whether the light was actually green or just a particular yellow. Snorting at his thoughts, he decided to make a try and entered the pub. The air was tough, almost unbreathable because of the smoke of cigars and cigarettes, but it was full of both American and British soldiers: at a first, long sight, Dick couldn't catch his friends' presence but feeling a tad uncomfortable just standing there all alone, he opted to walk towards the counter and take a seat, so that he could inspect the crowd without catching somebody's eyes. Behind it, there was a barmaid, dressed with a very tight shirt which left her shoulders and a large part of the area between her neck and her breasts exposed; she didn't look very young, she was probably on her thirties, but she was somehow pretty: blonde hair gathered in a ponytail and a tad of lipstick which made her lips shine bright as pink roses.

The barmaid warmly smiled as she noticed him ''hey honey, what can I serve to you?'' she asked chipping.

Dick felt taken aback at such question – even though he would've known that people normally seat behind a counter because they want a drink – and he hurriedly muttered ''Just a coke, please'', pulling out from his pocket some cash. The barmaid gave him a startled and questioning look but ultimately shrugged in approval ''so let it be coke''.

When she came back with his coke and grabbed the cash on the counter, Dick was studying the crowd carefully trying to peek his friends but unsuccessfully. As he sipped from his glass a gulp of cool coke, he felt a strong presence near him.

''Hey Jonny, look at this queer American mummy's boy drinking his coke!'' the presence blurted mockingly. Dick recognized his unmistakable British accent and decided to let it go, staring down on his glass without shaking a little.

''What's up, mummy's boy? You cannot stand a true soldier's mock?'' he snickered teasingly ''America, kiss this British ass!''

This time, Dick looked at the soldier ''Maybe you should show some respect to a superior, Sergeant'' he calmly stated with a tad of teasing, noticing the rank on his uniform.

''So, our friend can't stand an argument so he pulls off the rank!'' the soldiers barked, catching his fellow's attention ''what a pussy you are'' he added, spitting on the counter on a point really near Dick's glass.

Still, before Dick could point out his utter lack of manner, the barmaid foreran him.''Hey you, big boy, keep your testosterone down. This buddy is just trying to enjoy himself as everyone here, ok?'' she stated calmly ''and don't dare to spit on my counter again or-'' she intimidated.

''Or you what? You're just a slut and everyone knows it. So come here and suc-''

''Hey!'' Dick got up pointing his finger on the rouged Sergeant's chest.

''So, it looks like our mummy's boy got a little tensed. What is it? Is she your whore, too?'' the soldier snickered. Dick felt his remarkable calmness and stillness leaving him, feeling the urge to hit the Sergeant's face.

''No, my friend. It's just he can't stare badasses like you. Don't get me wrong, I like asses – especially a round and soft one, belonging to a woman – and I like smartasses. But yours is very, very bad'' a known voice from behind said cockily; slighter turning his head, Dick caught from the corner of his eye Jackson Malarkey who walked next to Dick ''and for your information, nary a whore would accept to suck you so you have any chance with the good Maria here''.

''Oh, so it looks like the American mummy's boy has a boyfriend!'' he barked, eliciting big laughs from his fellows' mouths.

''These mama's boys here have learnt from their mamas how to kick bastards like you as you'll never figure out in your entire life, so you'd better go away'' Jackson challenged in almost a angry whisper with narrow, defying eyes.

''Oh, we'll show you well what a British soldier is made of'' he grinned while his fellows were already surrounded them. Jacks kept his challenging look on the Sergeant for a bunch of seconds and then, as he felt his guard down, he gripped Dick's arm ''Run!'' and he pushed him through the group of the British soldiers who were already on them and rushed out of the door.

The air was cold but Dick couldn't care less: Jackson's hand was still gripped at his arm while they were running down the street; Dick tried to look behind, hoping to see whether the soldiers were on their trace when Jackson pulled him down in a dark corner ''Here! Silent!'' he ordered before falling on the ground next to Dick.

''Not bad for a novice of bar fights!'' he snickered.

''It's not funny, Malarkey'' Dick stated, giving him a scornful look in disapproval.

''Really? Isn't it?'' Jackson stated cockily before starting an hysterical laugh. Dick looked questioningly at him not seeing the point in laughing, but then he just let go some chuckles.

''I think they're gone, sir'' Jackson said lifting from the ground. ''Tell me sir, what were you doing in a pub? Never thought of you as a bar fight type. Obviously I assume you were not seeking for some booze.''

''No, I was not'' Dick said smirking and cleaning his uniform while walking next to Jackson ''I was looking for Lieutenants Nixon and Welsh…did you see them around by chance?''

Jackson shrugged ''I fear you won't catch them, sir. Lieutenants Nixon and Welsh attended a particular pub located out of the town. And… I don't think it's your genre, sir. Neither mine, actually'' Jackson said smirking a little as Dick immediately understood what kind of a pub it was.

''So…maybe I'd better go home. It's getting late.''

Jackson looked at him gingerly, noticing how dejected he resembled – a mood that never left the Captain lately – so he felt the need to strike a conversation.

''Was there a particular reason you were looking for the Lieutenants, sir?'' he asked very formally but still with a tad of selfless concern in his tone.

Dick grimaced ''I just needed some company'' he cut it, feeling uncomfortable at the soldier's try to make familiar.

Jackson rolled his eyes. Winters was a tough one: he could not simply get the Captain to open up like he used to do with every man in the Company. Winters had the unhappy – and still righteous – idea that he was the one to be supposed to listen to his men's problems, trying to understand and sometimes to solve them. Nevertheless, he could not accept to burden his men. Consequentially, Easy men – even the one who had been known him since Toccoa – could tell just a few things about the Captain's private life: he came from Pennsylvania, had a sister, his parents were Quacker (or Mennonite), he was a teetotaler and attended university. It was not necessary to know something more, but the fact he was so strict when it came to talk about his life gave everyone the feeling he was…far: on another level, with all the pros and cons coming from such status.

''Now you have me, sir. You're lucky you found me'' Jackson winked wryly ''I can be a good listener, some say'' he chipped.

Dick frowned at that, admonishing his Sergeant for becoming way too much friendly. Jackson promptly bit his lips, knowing he was being inappropriate. The two walked side by side in silence for what seemed to be an eternity: the wind was starting to blow and to howl, lifting some leaves and dust.

''I didn't want to be rude, sir'' Jackson interrupted the silence sounding really apologetic.

Dick shrugged ''Never mind. I didn't mean to take it too seriously, too. It's just not a good time, for me'' he admitted swallowing hard and lowering his stare on the ground, looking quite troubled ''I know you always respect the rank. Always very formal.''

Jackson knew – as everyone in the company – that he was speaking the truth: everyone noticed something was wrong with the Captain. He was the same: righteous, prompting his soldiers to do of their best, always outlining new strategies to try. The fact was that something made him lose his focus: not on the mission, but on himself. Jackson was truly worried that it was his fault.

''I can hardly tell that, sir. You were promoted, you lead a Company now. The men would follow you in hell and the superiors look at you quite agape'' Jackson reassured ''Those folks! I bet they've never seen action in their whole lives! Therefore, they all are probably amazed seeing your capacities, sir''.

Dick looked at him arching his brow ''it's not all about praises. I think of all the responsibilities weighting on my shoulders, sometimes I doubt I can take all this.''

''Sir, did you hear what I said in the first part? We would follow you to hell'' Jackson stated firmly hiding how bewildered he was at Dick's admission.

''That's it. What if-'' Dick stopped, considering he was opening up too much and that those were not the words that a soldier was supposed to hear from his superior.

''What if you get as all killed?'' Jackson asked almost in a whisper and, noticing Dick was biting his lip, never leaving his stare from the ground he continued ''sir, no one can always take the right choice. I guess there must be some things we can't control. Instead, what we can control is our actions: we all know how hard you studied, how smart you got at skimming out a plan in a heartbeat, how close you are to us. We all saw you doing of your best and pushing us to do of our best, always. You can't honestly blame you for anything and we don't need anything more than what you have already gave us.''

Dick stopped, staring blankly at the ground. The words reverberating through his ears, he tried to repeat each of them mentally, knowing that the speech what was he needed to hear, even though he did not believe it completely.

''Sir?''

Repeat, repeat again.

Dick looked tenderly at Jackson: it was true, the man was a good listener and wise.

''Thank you, Sergeant'' he whispered sweetly.

''Not at all'' Jackson shrugged coolly, trying to not show how the stare on the Captain overwhelmed him ''it's just what I think. What we all think'' he added and started to walk again, Winters straight behind him.

''I know I acted quite weird recently and that you all figured it out. Especially with you'' Dick said, sounding actually concerned and sorry.

''I don't mind. I really appreciate you kept my secret, sir, and above all that you gave me the chance to keep fighting this war with my Company and with you.''

''Yeah but-'' Dick paused, remembering how struggled his choice had been, how he had almost decided to report to Colonel Sink ''You don't deserve any special treatment. I kept my eyes on you, checking you…didn't get hurt. But I know I don't have to: you're a good soldier, and a good man. I hope you'll forgive me for that.''

Jackson's lips curled in a sheepish smile, deflecting a grimace. He could not expect Dick to consider him as a good soldier and a good woman, too: he knew it wasn't part of the plan. Anyway, the statement hit him right in his stomach, considering Captain Winters would've never thought a good soldier could be a woman, how impossible it sounded to him.

''Thank you sir. Your words honor me.''

Dick chuckled playfully, amused at how formally the Sergeant was most of the time: more than his fellows, anyway. He stopped ''I'm arrived. This is the house where I'm quartered.''

The two exchanged a formal salute and a goodnight and then, when Jackson was already on his way, Dick called his name: the voice reverberated through the silent street.

''What's up sir?''

''Sergeant, you can call me Dick, when we are alone.''

* * *

Dick made to himself a promise which he was successfully keeping. Things got back to normal: he tried to behave, to not worry too much about a single soldier, and he did it.

Sergeant Jackson Malarkey turned out to be a good leader for his platoon. Focused, wise, physically prepared, he not only prepared his platoon to the best, but also he represented a point of cohesion between the veterans and the replacement. Dick knew he did the right choice promoting him.

The more he got to know him, the more he could not believe such an incredible man did not even think of becoming an officer. They found time – alone – to discuss strategies, new ways to train the men. Jackson was deeply interested in their needs and feelings, he knew their limits, he knew how to push them to their best.

''I didn't want to catch anybody's eyes more than I'm already doing, Dick'' Jackson replied when Dick asked how come he did not consider to attend OCS. Jackson was comfortably sat in Dick's chair, in his office: he had decided he would not have come back to The Barnes that night because he had a little work to finish. Jackson joined in his office to report his platoon's conditions and ended up to sip – weirdly – some hot milk and talking of everything and nothing with his superior. It was starting to be an habit.

''Yeah…I guess you made the right choice'' Dick shrugged, understanding his reasons ''but you are a fine soldier and a great Sergeant.''

Good soldier, a man trustworthy. And a friend.

Strategies were not the only things they talked about. Soon, during their late nights conversation, they found out almost everything about their lives: where they grew up, why they decided to join the Paratroopers, where they did study, and funny stories about their lives. Dick felt he could completely open up with him, telling him things he never really shared with anyone. The fact was Jackson was a good listener, he never judged and took everything seriously. Dick could see the light in his eyes when he was speaking, how his eyes lingered on his lips catching every single word. Then, he would come out with a genuine laugh or with a suggestion, when he needed one.

''I told Don it was not a good idea, but he didn't listen to me. Oh, he never does. So, he climbed on that goddamn tree and then fell into 's garden making a hell of a noise but she didn't seem to notice. So, he sneaked through the garden and opened the tiny door carefully and he entered the house. He took the goddamn cake and I couldn't believe it! The fact was he had no way to come back because he could not climb the tree with a cake in his hands! He was so hilarious, trying to catch up how to go away from there keeping the goddamn cake!''

''Did he made it at least?'' Dick snickered, chuckling playfully at the story.

''That's the funny fact. When he-''

A knock on the door followed by a tall frame interrupted the moment.

''Didn't imagine there was a party in here. Why did you invite me, Dick?'' a staggering Lewis Nixon entered noisily the room. Dick grimaced, inexplicably upset at being interrupted by his best friend.

''No party in here, Lew'' he cut it straight.

Lewis leaned against the wall, chuckling playfully ''well, so I guess there's no reason for a NCO to spend his night in a Captain's officer exchanging recipes'' he spitted challenging with his stare both Dick and Jackson.

''Oh, I'm sorry sir'' Jackson got up from the chair saluting slightly '' I came to report about my platoon and ended up talking about-''

''Cakes?'' Lewis cut it, gingerly studying the Sergeant's reaction. Jackson felt his cheeks blushing, unable to explain how come he was exchanging such stories with his superior.

''I'd better go, sir'' he almost whispered, never looking the Captain in his eyes.

''Yeah, I guess you'd better go'' Lewis repeated in what seemed a grin of apparent anger. He followed every move of the Sergeant till the moment he was out of the office and locked the door.

''For Pete's sake, what's wrong with you?'' Dick barked, staring confusedly at his friend.

''Since when do you curse, exactly?'' Lewis teased surprised at hearing such words ''and I must be the one asking what is wrong with you, Dick. How come do you spend all this time with Sergeant, Sergeant-'' Lewis gasped for words, making a façade he could not recall the name.

''Malarkey'' Dick added, grimacing and staring upsettingly at him.

''Yeah, that's it. So, how do you explain it?''

''He's my NCO, Lew. You heard him, he passed to let me know about the platoon. We just started to talk about other things, what is wrong with that?''

''oh, nothing'' Lewis said wryly, shrugging ''except for the fact he's been passing in your office to ''report'' very frequently, I noticed'' Lewis accused, frowned.

''Are you jealous, Lew?'' Dick snickered dryly behind his desk, looking at him playfully.

''You idiot'' Lewis curled his lips in a upset grimace ''You should know better than me it's not genuine for a Officer to get so close to his man.''

''Since when do you respect the protocol, Lew? I mean, you're the one drinking your soul out, staggering through the Regiment, even when Sink's around. What are we talking about?''

Dick's words, stated as a matter-of-fact, hit Lew in his stomach. He was quite offended: he had never seen Dick being so judgemental, especially with him. Lewis never heard such critic words pronounced by his calm friend's mouth.

Dick immediately remark his friend's sad expression ''Sorry. I'm being too on the defensive.''

''Yes you are.''

''Sorry, Lew'' and he really seemed to be. Lewis shrugged, unable to stand such expression on him and considering he was on the defensive, too.

''Don't worry. Anyway, I'm saying it for your good: you know how dangerous it can be.''

''I know, Lewis. It's nothing.''

Dick was lying, and he was conscious he was not so good at it, but he tried to keep a straight face. Truth was, he was starting to consider Jackson Malarkey as a friend, a good one. He trusted him completely, enjoyed his company and missed his presence when he did not turn out in his office for some days. Dick knew how wrong it was, how dangerous. He knew all those things, and Jackson knew them too.

''As far as I see it, you can't let the war privy you of your youth. It doesn't have to be so. Maybe we're special, different from the others. We saw things maybe our parents had never seen. but we're still young, we have to find pureness in whatever we can, when we can'' Jackson once said, during one of their night talks. Wise words, as always: he always seemed to hit the nail on the head. The fact was, Dick found that pureness, that simplicity, in their talks. Dick felt he could be himself with him, and Captain Winters was just something relegated in the deepest areas of his mind. Their talks, their laughs: for some minutes, he could pretend he was somewhere else. He felt understood, completely.

He could tell everything.

Sometimes, the glimpse of that day crossed his mind but it seemed so unreal. Those curves, that slender and feminine body. At first, when thinking of it, he felt his cheeks reddening but at that point, he could not mentally arrange those pale breasts to Jackson Malarkey. The truth did not exist. The reality was far away when they were together; whatever that truth or reality was, it couldn't hit him. When he was with Jackson, everything was ok.


	6. Chapter 6

_Come back again (sooner than the last time). I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I have already new ideas about the ones to come :)_

 _The only thing I wanted to say is that this chapter - too - will focus only on Dick and Jackson. From the next one, I hope I'll be able to include some more Bill-Joe-Jackson's parts: I really like portraying this friendship._

 _So...I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!_

 _Please, review and let me know what you think :) besos :*_

* * *

Market Garden was a trapezist: it was do or die. Dick repeated the plan mentally countless times during the night before the jump. He inquired the Intelligence carefully; Nixon, next to him, kept reassuring him: ''only olds and kids'', he repeated frustrated.

Dick didn't know what to expect from Holland and maybe, considering how long the Germans had been engaged into war, their Intelligence could be perfectly right.

Despite that, for so many reason, Dick knew the next morning jump stood for

that was his first mission as CO, the first time the replacements got to finally see action. He wished he trained them well, he wished he could measure up the target.

Dick barely got to sleep, aware he would've soon regretted his soft and warm bed.

Among all the things he had imagined, he could have not ever thought of seeing such scenario. Orange flags waving out from the houses, all the people in the street singing songs in their language: they were so many that Dick found serious difficulties in making the company move.

''Stay here, I'll search for my source'' Lewis suggested before disappearing in the crowd. Dick nervously tried to watch over his company and to catch eventual snipers but the situation made it impossible. It disturbed him, a lot, seeing such a mess: his men singing, drinking, kissing, screaming. He realized how grateful those people could be seeing in them a glimpse of hope after a long time of oppression and Dick himself could not avoid the pride he felt inside at such gratitude but they were just making their task harder.

''Lipton, call them all!'' Dick ordered, grabbing the Sergeant by his arm.

''I'm trying, sir'' he helplessly replied.

Dick grinned ''Where's Buck? Lieutenant Compton?''

Lipton bit his lips and shrugged sheepishly ''Sir, Lieutenant Compton is right there, taking a photograph with the locals'' he pointed at a group of civilians and American soldiers – his soldiers – not so far from them.

Dick grinned, blatantly vexed, and looked at Lipton's desperate face ''it's okay, Lip. I know you're doing of your best.''

Lipton shrugged. ''Sir, do you want something to eat or to drink?'' he offered innocently. Dick glared at him,huffing angrily ''I'd better call them all, sir.''

''Yeah, you'd better do it'' Dick commanded, following Lipton disappearing fast in the crowd.

''Dick, clock's ticking'' Lewis patted on his shoulder. Luckily, that meant he linked with his source so that they could finally move out. In that moment, a small group of women surrounded them and tossed their arms around their necks and one of them, printed a small kiss on Dicks's lips ''Thank you'', he replied a tad vexed.

''We've got to get to the bridges'' Dick explained to Harry and Buck who grouped around him.

''Captain Winters'' Lieutenant Peacock stepped near them with Sergeant Malarkey ''I succeeded in gathering my platoon, we wait for orders, sir'' he drawled.

''Well done, Lieutenant'' Dick nodded but before he could give any order, another group – or maybe the same – of local girls surrounded them but this time, a tall, brown haired one embraced Jackson tight, kissing him fiercely. As the kiss ended, Jackson's lips were colored of red ''Thank you'' he whispered pleasantly bewildered and, as fast as she appeared, the brunette fleeted away with her friends. Dick was astounded: Jackson didn't show any embarrassment, discomfort. Had he already kissed a girl? Perhaps just to make a show? The picture hit him in the stomach and all he could hear was an undefined amount of voices around him, calling his name.

''Sir, Lieutenant Winters. I'm waiting for your orders'' Peacock urged, staring at him confused.

''We're waiting for Captain Nixon's source to show us the way to the bridges, Lieutenant. I'll let you know when he arrives.''

''Yeah, this way'' Lewis grabbed Dick by his arms and guided him through the crowd before Peacock could reply, with Harry and Buck hardly following them.

* * *

There's a first time for everything. The jump – that was not a first time. Cooperating with the British – that was a first time. Withdrawal was a first time Dick was not so eager to experience. The Operation turned out to be a utter failure. Dick would've brooded later where he did go wrong with the plan, where he could do better. All he could muse about was all they lost that day: all the hopes of those folks, weighting on them, were faded in the Germans' bombing. Staring into distance he could see Eindhoven in fire: it reminded him of the Day of Days, but this time the epilogue was way different, and not on their side. That beacon of hope of being home for Christmas was gone along with all the men he lost on that day: replacements, veterans, Bull. One of his best men, a Toccoa man, Bull Randleman was a rock in all the senses: wise, strong. They didn't find the body so there was still a chance for him. Maybe he was still alive. Dick said a silent pray.

He heard a small group decided to go find him: something he didn't officially authorized but he was damn proud of his brave men; moreover, they were the only chance to find Bull: Colonel Sink would've never accept to risk the lives of an entire company to look for one man, especially after such day.

''Captain Winters'' a voice called in the night. It sounded like a mournful whisper, but it made his lips arch in a peaceful smile.

''Jackson'' he said, never leaving his gaze from the aflame city.

''I heard we're moving out in the morning. I told my men to rest for the night but...they just can't, tonight.''

The day-report was not what Dick expected to hear in that moment and it was the latest thing he needed.

''Are you worried about Bull?''

Dick didn't reply. It was so obvious. He was, he was not. Bull was one of his men, but just a man. He cared a lot – and he didn't care at all.

''I saw you, yesterday'' Dick stated instead, deflecting the inconvenient question ''kissing that woman.''

Jackson huffed callously''She kissed me'' he blurted upset.

''Do you like girls?'' Dick quizzed intrigued.

''What should've I done, uh? I am a man, I thought you had understood that, Dick'' Jackson boomed exasperated.

''It just left me...speechless'' Dick stared at his feet, gasping for words ''We got close, Jackson. I consider you as one of my closest friend. I completely trust you'' Dick said tenderly, finally looking at him: his eyes sparkled in the night ''I forgot about you. About the real you.''

''You don't need to recall the real me. Actually, I don't want you to do it. I know how it heavies on you, keeping it secret. I know how hard you tried to deal with the fact that a woman is fighting a war and she's under your responsibility. For your sake, you'd better forget what you saw'' Jackson said openhearted. God knew how hard for him was speaking those words because he – Jane – wished with all his forces Captain Winters could look at him and see what he really was, see he was a woman. Jane needed to be treated as a woman by him, by Dick Winters: for how long her fantasy wandered away, imagining that in another time, in another place, she was dating Dick Winters in a small and pretty restaurant where they would've enjoyed a good meal and danced till the morning. But that wasn't happening. Jackson knew he was just a man.

''How sad your life is, Jane'' Dick stated, remarking Jackson's real name. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands on his face.

Jackson grimaced ''what...what should that mean, Dick?''

''I mean you've been restraining the real you for such a long time. How can you be happy with yourself?'' Dick inquired almost in a mourn, his cerulean eyes showing an inexplicable vulnerability.

''Where does all this come from?'' Jackson said after a small, unease, silence ''why are you doing this to me?'' he said swallowing hard, struggling to keep the tears and the desperation in his voice.

''I'm not saying anything. I'm just asking you: are there any moment in your life when you can be who you really are? Do you want me to call you Jane?''

Jackson's hands reached for his lips: shuddering, almost unable to keep the tears anymore, he looked agape at Dick ''I don't know where all this comes from but I don't think I deserve any of that'' Jackson stammered with a trembling voice ''and no, I don't want you to call me Jane. I don't want you to call me, Dick'' he added with all his forces, and rushed away from him in the night.

''Jackson!'' Dick cried, feeling the urge to follow him. He didn't make a move.

* * *

They were not leaving Holland, but that fact was predictable: they had to contain the bleed. At least, they had houses were to sleep -most of the times at least – hot food, ammos. Now and then, some patrols returned with a wounded, or with a dead body.

Jackson refused to talk to Dick; on his side, Dick didn't dare to make a try: Jackson's glares every time his stare lingered on him a little longer was a blatant signal he would've not talked to him. Losing a friend – losing him – was hard to deal with: Dick missed their late night talks, his smiles, the way he laughed at him, his tips of wisdom. Lewis remarked his low mood and he really tried to understand what was troubling him but Dick could not tell him about Jackson, about the way he cared about him, or about the reason why they fought. It all stayed in Dick's mind, pinching every day more. As a war wasn't enough to sustain.

It was the fifth of October. Dick was quartered with a bunch of his men in a old farm. He had sent a patrol to check on the line but he didn't expect any action for the night. Jackson was on a bench, cleaning his bayonet. Dick was imbued by guilt and pity: his best friend – Bill Guarnere – was wounded and quartered in a hospital there in Holland; the wound was not so serious and he would've probably returned to the front soon, but that affected Jackson a lot.

Breathing hard, Dick found the courage and joined Jackson on the bench: when he first noticed him, he widened his eyes in astonishment but then he quickly returned to his bayonette, not proffering a word.

''How is Bill doing?'' Dick asked coolly.

''He's fine. He'll heal'' Jackson cut it straight impassively.

''And how are you?''

''I'm fine, Captain.'' he countered grudgingly. Dick was imbued by a sense of guilt and he strove to find the words to say sorry.

''Please, don't fend me off'' he implored vehemently ''that night...it was a mistake. I was dejected, exhausted because of the mission. I had so many things in my mind... I don't know what it took over me. Believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you, Jackson'' he admitted, his voice and his whole body trembling. It was an hard task for his pride to say sorry, especially to one of his men, but Dick knew when it was the right time to make his walls go down; in that moment, he wore his heart on his sleeve and he bet he had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. Despite that, his admission didn't seem to move Jackson stoic composure: he just stared blankly at him for some seconds and thereafter, he got back to his bayonette.

''What's fun is that I perfectly know what took over you, sir'' Jackson blurted angrily ''you can't stand the truth. You tried to hide it for a while and we got on well together, I admit it. The point is that you are damn sure a woman can't possibly and successfully do what men do. You can't accept it so you can't accept me'' he barked grinning his teeth in range and disappointment ''I'm okay with that, along with the fact you'll keep my secret and won't report me. But I don't want you as a friend. Friends accept you for what you are and they don't try to run you down, they buoy you. I did all this for you countless times but you don't seem to appreciate that'' Jackson added, this time looking at Dick right in his eyes.

Dick looked down regretfully and pensively. Jackson always made his day by cheering him up, looking at him and letting him know that he believed in him. Dick realized how much his words affected him: he belittled him, making him feel different, useless, just because of his sex.

''You are right. I hardly accept what you are. I still can believe it, actually. It's hard, I thought you knew it. Still, I should've never spoken those words to you. It's not that I don't believe in you, Jackson: I really do. You're a great soldier, a great leader, I openly praise your abilities every time I have to. Moreover, you're a good friend, you're actually one of the closest I've ever had. It's against the protocol, being so close to a NCO and you should know that. But for some unknown reason, I really, really need you. I need your friendship to keep fighting this war. ''

''Dick...'' Jackson could not believe his ears. Was the cold-iced-heart Winters really telling him that he mattered in his life? That he was essential? Dick was staring at him: he seemed so vulnerable, with his eyes sparkling in hope. He was so handsome.

''Dick...I don't know what to say.''

''Just tell me you forgive my foolishness'' he replied, his mouth curled in a faint smile, a sign he was recovering his hopes.

''I forgive you, Dick'' Jackson opened in a warm smile, finally leaving his bayonet on the bench.

Dick was bewildered when he realized he had missed that smile to death.''Thank you, Jackson.''

The door slammed: Liebgott and Boyle carried Alley's harmless and bloodshed body; in a second, everybody was on him.

''Where happened?'' Dick asked.

''At the crossroads.''

* * *

''Sometimes, what we get it's not what we need, Lew'' he huffed after Lewis' last try to wheedle something out of him. He could not deflect him to notice something was troubling him. Lew knew there was something, he tried to guess, but he still hadn't gleaned it. Dick had no intention of talking about it with him, or with anyone else. He let his pain grow silently, fighting off the emptiness that was imbuing him, devouring every single cell. Lewis once described him like a man with no flaws, no vices, no sense of humor.

There were vices, flaws. Pride – Dick mused – was essential for a leader: showing off his uncertainties would've been perilous for his men whose lives depended on his choice. Instead, stillness and a good dose of self-confidence reassured the men.

It was a vice, too.

War was beginning to affect everyone. Lewis drank even more: Dick could tell it by the numerous times he came to his office to refill his flask. Harry Welsh increased the number of letters he wrote to his fiancée. The general audacity and cockiness was replaced by cautiousness and by the harsh awareness that no one was expendable, they all were cannon fodder. The smell of death was stuck in their nostrils, almost each men of the Company could at least count one time he had his hands dirtied by the blood of one of his closest friend. Since the moral was starting to collapse, Dick could not be affected.

What he did had to be a secret.

Above all, what would've Lewis thought about him, if he had known? How would've he looked at Dick? The mere thought of Lewis, staring at him reluctantly, disgusted, made him shudder.

Lewis shrugged helplessly ''what I'm saying is that you should try to seem thankful, at least. I don't want to see you like this, anymore.''

''I try, I really try, Lewis'' Dick huffed, looking at him somberly.

''Okay. I'd better check on Dobbey. Good luck with your report, Dick.''

When Lewis got out, Dick took a long breathe and returned to stare at the sheet of paper in front of him: ''5th October.''

Lewis Nixon was the Intelligence Officer, and a good one. He actually didn't recognize any praise on him but that was what Sink repeated proudly. Lewis started to underestimate his abilities since the moment he could not read his best friend's mind anymore. He gleaned it was about his very last mission, when he found him crouched on the ground, staring blankly at the field in front of him where countless dead bodied would've laid forever.

The fact Dick would've not talked to him hurt him even more. Lewis lighted himself a cigarette, prancing on his way to the Regimental HQ when he caught up the sight of Jackson Malarkey and Joe Toye,jerking and trading a bottle of whine. He decided to make a detour.

''Sergeant, Corporal'' he saluted to get their attention and jerked his chin towards Jackson ''Malarkey, can I have a word?''

''Yes, sir'' he countered promptly, saluting his friends and following the Captain from behind. Lewis handed him a cigarette which he refused.

''Listen, Sergeant, Captain Winters is having some troubles with his report'' Lewis exposited, not sure about where he wanted to go.

Jackson looked at him questioningly ''Well...I'm sorry sir. How can I help?'' he offered sheepishly and unconvincingly.

''There's something he can't remember'' Lewis added, still not knowing what he was doing. He only figured out that somehow, the Sergeant could enlight him about Dick's awkward behavior: he was there, next to him; actually, he was always there. Lewis snorted at the thought while Jackson was still looking at him quizzically ''Sir, I don't know what I can do about it.''

''What happened, exactly?''

''I think you already know what happened, sir. Well, it happened what always does: we found them, we killed them – a lot of them -, we conquered. Moreover, I don't think I should be the one to ask about that. Lieutenant Peacock was there, too. You should inquire him, sir.''

Lewis grinned imperceptibly: damn, how much he hated that man! Relentlessly wandering around Dick, always wearing that coolly smile on his face. Who the hell he thought he was? And now, he dared to talk to him with such disrespect, keeping what he knew about his best friend from him.

''Yeah, sure. You can go'' Lewis blurted and turned away, ready to get where he was meant to be.

''Captain Nixon!''

Lewis cracked his neck ''What is it, Sergeant?''

''When are you going to debrief us on Operation Pegasus?''

''It's none of your business, Sergeant.''

How he hated that guy.

* * *

Lewis hedged purposefully on the details about Operation Pegasus, at least about the strategic ones: the ones Dick really cared to know. He thought it was out of spite because he refused to tell him what was crossing his mind. Whether it was for that, Dick thought it was unfair from Lewis: he was the Battalion XO, he had the right to know.

Dick knew he wasn't about to sleep until he got news from E Company so he decided to just keep working on his reports. He betted Zilinsky – his orderly – already hated him for making him stay up late.

When peeking out from his window he saw a queue of soldiers wearing red hats, he knew the mission was successfully completed. He smiled proudly when he heard his men making a toss with the British to their victory. He considered joining the party but he knew he would've not been at ease: it was not his place anymore.

Shrugging, he walked away from the window, ready to finally catch some sleep when he heard a knock on his door.

''Enter'' he ordered, hoping Nixon and his bacon sandwich would've entered but, instead, a staggering Jackson Malarkey pranced over him.

''Captain Winters!'' he exclaimed ''Lieutenant Hey-Hey—Hey...The new one is a smartass!''

Dick chuckled amused ''Guess Operation Pegasus was a success.''

''Yeah! We saved those British asses.'' Dick could not fight the incoming laughs at that. When Lewis got drunk he became really pensive, sullen: he scared him, sometimes. On the other hand, Jackson looked so funny, staggering here and there in his room, staring agape at everything and wearing a satisfied smile.

''Why don't you come back to the party, though?''

''Nah, I wanted to check on you. Captain Nixon told me you had some troubles with your report, that you could not remember something and that I could be useful. Did you recall what you forgot, sir? About the fifth October?'' Jackson said sighing. Dick looked at him questioningly, agape: had Lewis really done those things? Dick had never told him anything: in fact, he did remember everything about that day.

''Yeah, I remember now.''

''Good to hear it, sir!'' Jackson sketched a toss and walked over Dick's desk, collapsing on the chair ''you know, sir, Dick. You were a lion, that day. I was speechless. You left all of us speechless. I can't find the words to describe your braveness. You're an hell of a man!'' Jackson stammered, staring blankly at some undefined point in front of him. They had never talked about that day.

Dick shrugged, dejected, unable to reply. He hadn't felt like a lion.

''Richard Lion-Heart! Do you know him?'' Jackson quizzed, seemingly very interested in knowing the answer.

''Yes, I do.'' Dick hoped Jackson would've not turned out with a comparison between him and the good king because he didn't deserve it. Instead, Jackson kept on staring blankly into space.

''You should go to sleep, Jackson. It's late.''

''Not now, mum'' he demurred snorting ''I wanted to see you, I haven't seen you in a while, Dick.''

Dick was leaning against the wall, staring at the man in his room: even though he had just got back from a mission he didn't seem to be tired. He wore an angelic, peaceful smile and he was enlightened by the candles in his room. Dick relaxed at just the view.

''Did you miss me?'' Dick asked, stealing a glance at him.

''Of course I did!'' Jackson exclaimed clapping his hands on his knees and quickly standing, almost losing his balance and staggered towards Dick ''you are my best friend, Dick. I really, really love you.''

Dick was taking aback from such revelation: it made his stomach twisting, a shudder ran through his whole body. He automatically bent down his head a bit to look closer at Jackson: he still wore that smile so Dick reminded himself that it was the booze talking, not him.

''You're drunk'' he stated almost in a mourn, sounding inexplicably disappointed.

''No, no'' Jackson urged to reply, tossing his hands on Dick's shoulders ''Listen, I know it might sound like a mock since I have said the same thing to Bill, Joe, my brother, your orderly out there and to a British Private but now I really mean it: I love you, Dick'' he exposited. The expression on his face hadn't changed at all, he was still staggering on his place, struggling to stand and grabbing at Dick's shoulders as he was his anchor. Dick bit his lips edgily, gasping for air, knowing it was still the alcohol talking but he didn't care. He didn't care anymore because it was just all too right: the light, how close he was. From his sight, Dick could finally catch every single line of Jackson's beautiful face: his features were tender, pronounced, his cheeks aflame, his brown-green eyes sparkling and his short hair all messed up, with some sweated red locks on his forehead; his lips were as red as his hair and they looked so soft, so sweet.

Dick took Jackson in his arms, selfishly pulling him on his body and caught his lips with his. Jackson couldn't figure out what was happening until the moment Dick's tongue found his way to his mouth, fighting against his. Dick kissed him fiercely, passionately while pressing against him, his hands floating on Jackson's back, caressing and pulling. Jackson felt his lips burning under his kiss when Dick elicited a moan, gripping his lips tight. When Dick reached for his breasts, Jackson stepped away.

Dick seemed he had just waken up, peering around confusedly; thereafter, his stare lingered on Jackson who was still just a few feet away from him. Dick run nervously his hands over his face.

''Jackson, I'm sorry, I'm very sorry'' he whined regretfully.

''You are...sorry?'' Jackson blurted stealing him a dejected glace ''what does that even mean, Dick?''

''I didn't want to-''

''You didn't want to kiss me, Dick?'' Jackson barked with widened eyes meeting Dick's mortified stare ''Listen, for both of us, we won't talk about it anymore. Okay? Or we will fight again and God knows I don't need any of that'' Jackson stated, furiously ''and I won't call you a queer, because that's what you are. I'm leaving'' Jackson promptly grabbed the bottle of wine he carried with him from Dick's desk, swallowed a long gulp and rushed away from the room, leaving Dick crouched on the ground.

* * *

''Where the hell is Ja-Ja-Jack''

''Jackson, my brother'' Don helped a smashed Joe Toye recalling his best friend's name.

''Yeah!You share the same surname!'' Joe exclaimed, visibly proud of his geniality.

''I don't know'' Don shrugged, taking a gulp from his pint ''he might be by Winters, I guess'' Don offered quirking a wry smile which Joe didn't intended.

''Good! I'll join them and we'll throw a party for Winters, too! He damn do deserve a party!'' exclaimed broadly an enthusiastic Joe, getting to his feet but losing a bit his balance in the act.

Don looked reluctantly at him ''I don't think so, Toye. You can barely stand on your feet.''

''I'm fine! I'm a big man!'' Joe demurred, beating his fist on his chest.

''Alright, gorilla, you're a big man but you have more booze floating in your veins than blood.''

''And who are you? My medic?'' Joe boomed and stepped away from the table ''see ya later, Malarkey number two!'' Joe waved a salute and pranced toward the door. Don shrugged, frowned ''number two?'' he said to himself.

Winters' office was not far from the farm where they had quartered but Joe found himself falling destructively on the ground, dirtying his uniform with the wet mud.

When he finally reached Winters' door, his sight was caught up by the two frames inside, which he peeked from the large window.

Jackson was dangerously close to the Captain but Joe could hardly adjust his eyes to glean what was happening: he walked even closer to the window.

Gaping, Joe felt to the ground ruinously, disgusted. Hardly trying to get on his feet again, he make haste to run away from there.

What was he supposed to do about it? Why the hell now? Joe Toye felt all his world collapsing. How would've he coped with it?

Why the hell did Bill have to stay in the goddman hospital? He was alone with a disgusting, unbelievable truth painted of red hair, hands tangled, lips colliding. It was shameful.

Joe writhed in frustration. The booze was starting to lose its effects, Joe was recovering his senses. He could catch the clouds covering the sky, sign it was nearly about to rain. He had nowhere to go, no one to talk to: just an unsustainable reality which he didn't want to face alone.

He had lost both his friends. He was alone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Here we go again!_

 _First of all, thank you for your lovely reviews: they made my day! And thank you for following/fav._ _I'm very sorry I didn't update any sooner but I'm downright busy with my classes!_

 _I hope you'll like the chapter. Things are getting more interesting between Jackson and Dick and, moreover, there's one side of Jackson you'll get to know with this chapter._

 _So...enjoy! Let me know what you think :D_

* * *

Mourmelon was heaven for soldiers coming back from a devastating time in Holland. The morale was down to their feet. Their newly promoted CO – Lieutenant Heyliger – was shot by a jumpy replacement. They made some resources, inquiring his ex NCOs: the young and promising Lieutenant commanded a platoon in B Company. He was sharp, brave – even reckless, sometimes – and he liked to drink, a lot. He was cordial, most of the time, always with a mirthful and boyish smile. Heyliger gained E Company's trust successfully leading them during Operation Pegasus. The replacement were amazed at such braveness and shrewdness while the veterans were more cautious about praising him too much but they all recognized he handled everything masterly.

Losing another good Commanding Officer concurred to worsen the situation.

When his substitute arrived, all the veterans twisted their noses. The chubby, average tall man was called Norman Dike. They made the duly researches again. Dike never actually commanded anything, not even the Army's horses. It was an exciting new experience, for him. Oh, exciting maybe it was not the right word to use: Dike yawned, all the time. He drawled some orders, sometimes: run here, shot there. Easy men never saw him grab his rifle. Even Sobel would've run some miles before collapsing breathlessly to the ground but to Dike, just waking up early in the morning to formally participate to their training was a nuisance.

The rumors hadn't reached Dick's ears, yet. When Colonel Sink promoted him, he promised him he would've not been involved into administrative work: it would've been a waste of his talent, he said. Hence, Dick was starting to think the Colonel had changed his mind about his capacities or he had just deceived him.

There was a pile of folders on his desk. The sunlight could barely ignite the room, entering by the small window.

The only pro in all that was he could spend some time with Lewis, at least. Lewis was promoted to the Regiment and Dick pleasantly and proudly congratulated him. Things were coming back to normal between after a time when their relationship felt at stake, in danger. For a little while, there were words unsaid, Dick could not read into his best friend's mind anymore: Lewis would've not let him in, but the feeling was returned. Now, finally, their walls went down. Lewis spent his breaks in Dick's office, scoffing him for his frustration: Dick turned morose every time before letting his lips curl in a sheepish, wry smile in return to Nix's jokes.

Dick knew the reason why Lewis seemed to be less tensed with him. Lew noticed Jackson Malarkey stopped spending his night with Dick. He was not around anymore. Lew had the good sense to not ask about him, and Dick was grateful for that. Everything in his life was coming back to normal, to a time where Jackson Malarkey was just one of his man, no one in particular.

The sense of guilt and disgust for himself faded away easier than he thought: Dick knew how to avoid meeting Jackson.

His emptiness was slowly leaving him.

It was a Thursday when all the sadness and the remorse came back to visit Dick Winters, right in his office.

''Sir, Bill Guarnere wants to see you'' Zilinsky opened the door, introducing the Sergeant. Dick immediatedly stiffened at the sight of the staggering and healed Sergeant.

''Guarnere'' he saluted, handing off his hand to him in salute. God knew how much he struggled to fight his awkwardness.

They exchanged a few words. Dick squirmed as he realized Bill was squinting at him, remarking his embarrassment. His good sense prodded him to leave the room as fast as he got there. Dick was glad he was fine and, above all, that he was back. The Company needed and missed the good Sergeant. By the way, the sight of Jackson's best friend felt like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

He took a relieved breathe as he disappeared from the room and he sat on his chair to deflect Nixon and Welsh's attention from his trembling legs.

* * *

''Hey, bro. What d'you think about a trip to the town? I heard about this pub that-''

''No'' Jackson demurred without even looking at his brother, his attention all addressed to the book in his hands.

Don shrugged a tad offended but mostly affected by his brother's mood. Don remarked a change in Jackson's behavior: it was almost imperceptible but it was something a brother – a twin – could not ignore. Jackson showed his usual energy and enthusiasm on a daily basis. He blatantly forced himself to hang out with the others, too, but he gladly refused to spend his spare time out of the basis. He preferred staying by himself, reading a new book every three days.

Don tried to wheedle something out of him but unsuccessfully. By the way, he knew it for sure it was something going on with two of the most important people in Jackson's life: Joe Toye and Captain Winters.

Jackson lost the habit to visit the Captain in his office, which Don remarked had happened frequently before. He never protested: he knew they had a lot in common, in fact.

One day, he saw his brother arguing with Joe: he could not exactly tell what was happening but he was sure Jackson didn't know it neither.

Jackson found himself alone, and it was devouring him. Don knew it. He also knew Bill Guarnere was recovering, fast, but nobody could tell when he would've got back. He could not wait a lifetime, he had to react, now.

''It's okay if you don't want to come'' Don stated sheepishly, joining Jackson on his bench ''I will bring you a pint anyway'' he snickered. Jackson shrugged but he was utterly impassive.

''Listen, I know your life has been a turmoil, recently. I wanna leave you breath and all, but you have to react, Jackson. You can't spend your life as a vegetable'' Don explained visibly worried, deflecting Jackson's attention from the book. He looked at him with narrowed eyes: he looked crestfallen, his eyes were a silent mourn.

Don took a sheet of paper out of his pocket in his hands: he stared at it, pensively. ''This is a forty-eight hours furlough for Paris. I asked for it since we arrived in Mourmelon and the Regiment opted to release it to me.''

''That's fantastic, Don'' Jackson exclaimed, pleasantly happy for his brother.

''Yes, it is. Anyway, I want you to have it'' Don reluctantly handed the paper toward his brother. Jackson looked at it questioningly ''What? Don, I don't want it, you deserved it more than me'' he squirmed.

''Probably, but you need it more, right now'' Don stated looking tenderly, his voice focused. ''I can't stand your beaten face anymore. I don't know what's troubling you and I know you're not going to open up with me, for unknown reason'' he stated blatantly offended ''and since you don't let me help I feel useless, unable to make you feel better. It hurts me seeing you like this. Let me do this for you, at least'' Don implored, still handing the pass toward his brother.

Jackson fight against the incoming tears, staring at the paper some inches away from his nose.

''Don I don't know what to say.''

''Just show some gratitude, accept my offer and buy me something. A good bottle of wine, maybe'' Don countered playfully gladly looking at his brother. Jackson shrugged and smiled – for the very first time since a while – and made a move to take the furlough from his brother's hand but Donald quickly lifted his hand.

''What? Have you already changed your mind?'' Jackson snickered.

''At one condition'' Don challenged pointing his finger at him.

''What is it?''

Don got up from Jackson's bed and walked over his own; kneeling down, he took a pack located under his bed and came back to Jackson's, handing him the pack.

''Mom sent it some weeks ago. I thought it was for you.''

Jackson unpacked it, revealing its contents: it was a white dress with some pink flowers printed. It was nothing special – their family couldn't afford nothing special – but Jackson thought it was the prettiest dress he had ever seen ''Do you really think I can wear it?'' he sputtered with tears running down his features.

''No one will recognize you there. You can be who you are. Go to the theater, meet an handsome man. Be a woman.'' Don took his brother's hand in his and squeezed it tenderly.

''What will the people say? A woman with short hair?'' Jackson snickered wryly, sobbing and drying a teardrop from his face.

''It's not about the hair. It's not even about the dress, actually. You don't need a dress, or long hair, or a red lipstick to be who you are. And what you are, my dear sister, is a wonderful woman: brave, strong, smart. You don't need a dress or even a uniform to be the amazing person you've become.''

''Oh, Don!'' Jackson tossed his arms around Don's neck, hugging him tight. No one in the world made her feel like his brother did: when with him, she felt accepted, she knew he didn't think she was less valuable because of her sex. Jane knew she was lucky, at least.

* * *

Jane didn't know how or when but she was determined to wear the pretty dress her mother sent to her. She owed it to his brother.

When she arrived in her hotel, she was still wearing her uniform: a soldier was supposed to be in that booked room, and a soldier would've slept there. She left her bags in her room and, still in uniform, left the hotel.

She entered in the first café she bumped into, asking for the toilette. She got changed in the cabin, struggling to put the uniform in the big bag she dragged. The dress covered her muscular body till her knees: looking at herself in the mirror, she felt uncomfortable at first: for so many years she hadn't got to wear a skirt, she was not used to it anymore. She recalled a time when she loved skirts, pretty dresses. Her mother sewed plenty of dresses re joying when she caught her daughter enthusiastic reaction every time she welcomed her with a new one. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

At a second sight, she regained her confidence: her breasts – finally free from the bends she always repressed them with – made the dress fall elegantly on her tiny body. Her legs were muscular but still feminine. She took a long breathe, enjoying the view some seconds more and then she walked out of the toilette, ready to show off her new dress.

''Au revoir, Mademoiselle!'' the barman waved a salute, looking at her pleasantly.''Au revoir, Monsieur. Bonne journée!'' she chipped, amused at how the man looked at her.

It was a sunny day: Paris was teeming with people having strolls in the streets. Civilian life, normal life. Jane wanted to cry to the world she was happy, finally. She pranced through the streets wearing a big smile on her face. Some boys here and there gently told her ''Salut, mademoiselle'', and she smiled at them warmly, returning the salute gladly. She felt all the eyes on her, like she was something beautiful, something no one had never seen. She was in an inexplicable state of bliss, she felt like an angel prancing from one soft cloud to the other.

She run into a nice café from where she had sight of the Eiffel Tour and she decided to have lunch there. The place was full of soldiers on furlough but she was sure no one would've recognized her dressed that way. She didn't want to worry about it now.

''Très bien, mademoiselle'' the waiter exclaimed closing his notepad and smiling gladly at her.

Jane stared at the Tour Eiffel and imagined how romantic, how perfect it would've been strolling in the night through the Parisians streets, holding a lover's hand. She adjusted in the tiny chair and closed her eyes, daydreaming about this ethereal man: tall, with a tender smile and his eyes only for her, kissing her hand gently. One day, she thought, that fantasy might have become real. When the war would've ended and she could've gone back to her life, her real life, and she promised to herself she would've let her hair grow and that she would've worn a dress or a skirt every day.

She stared at the tables around her: there were some couples, some families. They all seemed so happy. Jane thought one day she could feel that happiness, too. She was sure of it.

Then, she caught a man looking at her, agape, some tables away from her. Jane trembled, gasped for air and felt like she was about to throw up. She felt sick. Meanwhile, the waiter was coming back with the dish she ordered but before he could reach her table, she rushed away from the café, hearing him calling her, ''mademoiselle! Ton plate!''

Jane ran, brushing past the crowd, running away from him, sobbing. Then, someone grabbed tight her hand making her stop. She cried when turning, she saw Dick Winters who was still keeping her hand in his own.

''Jackson'' he whispered bewildered ''what are you doing here?''

Jane took her hand away from his crumpling ''it's none of your business. I don't know who you are, I don't know who this Jackson is!'' she cried, the teardrops falling from her brown-green eyes.

''Jane, you are Jane Malarkey'' he stuttered in painful mourn, his voice trembling.

''I don't know you, sir!'' Jane boomed quavering. She felt like she was about to faint, she wanted to disappear, to kill the man in front of her. He ruined everything, he always did! He discovered her secret, he got close to her deceiving her and then he kissed her! Dick Winters was the evil, the hatred she felt for him was infinite.

''Please, Jane, don't fend me off!''

''What do you want, Dick? Do you want to kiss me again? Do you want to taunt me again?'' she cried desperately looking daggers at him,snapping at him all the pain he inflicted her with.

''Why can't you be reasonable for once in your life?'' Dick boomed feeling his heart in his throat ''Why can't we talk like civilly?''

Jane grinned with clenched fists ''We must not talk! I don't want to see you anymore! Leave me alone! I hate you!'' she seethed and turned away, walking fast away from him.

''You said you loved me!'' Dick yelled. Jane stopped abruptly and crossed her arms but she didn't turn to face him. Dick reached her, cautiously putting his hand on her shoulder ''you said you loved me'' he whined desperately ''that's why I kissed you. I know you didn't even meant it but hearing those words from you moved something in me. It melted me. I care about you, I miss you to death. Everyday I feel like gasping for air because I want to talk to you. I want you.''

Jane started shuddering and the tears filled her eyes: she could not keep them anymore.

''Hey'' Dick pulled her tight to him, hugging her from behind.

''What do you want from me, Dick?'' Jane mourned, sobbing heavily and wetting Dick's uniform with her tears. She felt hims breathing on her head and a shudder ran through her body, calming her down for just a second.

''I only want you back. I beg for your forgiveness, again'' Dick implored, hugging her even tighter ''You make me act like a fool. This is not me. You unsettle me, you make me nervous. But every time I'm with you, I find my peace'' Dick printed a rough kiss on her head. Jane fell on the ground and Dick keeled down with her: Jane burst in tears while Dick kept kissing her head and caressing her back ''please, Jane, stop, stop crying. Let's just restart from the beginning.'' Jane met Dick's gaze: he sheepishly but warmly smiled at her. Jane cursed his name inwardly: how could he be able to do this to her, pulling her from hell to heaven in a heartbeat? Jane, still shuddering, met his gaze: his eyes were vulnerable, it seemed like he was about to cry, too. His body – pressed against hers – was quavering and his hand was tenderly caressing her hair. She settled in his grip and he hugged her close ''Oh, Dick'', she grabbed his shoulders tight and sunk her face into his grip.

''Don't let your pretty dress get dirty. Stand up, will you?'' Dick got up, handing her his hand, which she accepted. Dick stepped toward her, taking her sweet face in his hands ''let's start from the beginning, please. I need it. I really need it'' he begged staring into her eyes. Jane tossed her arms around his neck and printed a kiss on it.

The moonlight brightened the river while Dick and Jane were walking by the Seine hand in hand. They didn't talked about much: there were things still to clear up but it was just not the right time.

Dick didn't know whether squeezing his soldier's hand, having that romantic stroll with her in the marvelous Paris was what he actually wanted. Truth was, it all happened so fast and it was frustrating for someone like him not having the time to outline a plan, to muse about how to act. Dick ducked and stared at their hands: was it the right thing to do?

Since he had discovered the truth about Jackson – Jane – he had never thought of her as a woman: he owed it to his mental health; among all the things he had to control, he couldn't find a way to cope with such revelation, so he just let it go, completely. The fact Dick got eventually closer to Jane/Jackson was not planned. Dick wondered for the very first time whether he was friend with Jackson or Jane. However, if Dick pretended for the whole time to not know the truth about him, why did he kiss him (her)? He was not a queer. He liked girls: sure, they belonged to the deepest meanders of his head since he had never really thought about them since he enlisted, but he remembered girls were a part of his civilian life. He liked kissing girls, he liked their hair, their perfume, their tiny and sweet laughs. He sometimes mused about what they had under their pretty dresses, embarrassing all the time for letting his thoughts wander too much. Dick Winters was not some rude boy, dirtying his girls' honor when he was with friends. He respected them, he would've never talked about women in such ways. He didn't act like men of his age, he had never thought seriously about fucking, or marrying, of having children. He was different, but he was sure: he liked girls.

Dick cut his stare from their untangled hands and looked at Jane, instead: she stared at the river whose waved collapsed on the bank. Her skin was pale and Dick was sure it was soft, too. Her lips surely were: he had already tasted them and they burnt, and they were sweetest lips he had ever kissed. Her eyes were always so gentle but always with a sparkle of shrewdness. Dick mused about all the things they had talked about their late nights meetings: she recounted her high schools experience, anecdotes about her family and friends, she had talked about her dreams, the medals she won. It was Jane's life, not Jackson's. It was her talking, opening up, making him laugh, cheering him up. Moreover, the only thing different from a normal day on the basis was that she was wearing a dress, not her uniform, but she had always looked like a girl, she had always had those tender features, those red lips, that high voice. Sure she was muscular – more than a girl was supposed to be – and athletic, strong, sharp, but she had always been a woman. Even though she had soft skin, she was inexorable, invincible; even though her arms were not so big as his, she had always proved to be a brave soldier. Even though her entire figure was not as tall, as roughed, as big as a man, she was clever, shrewd.

Dick admitted two things to himself. First one: no matter how big a body appears, being wise or strong doesn't go along with measure. So a woman's head – typically smaller than a man's one – could actually contain more brain, and her arms – elegant, long but tiny – could lift, punch, hurt just like a man's ones.

Second thing: he fell in love with Jane, not with Jackson. It had always been her, since the very beginning: not since he discovered her secret but even since Toccoa, when he praised her for being such an incredible soldier. It had always been her, in their talks.

Dick stopped and pulled Jane's hand, constricting her to face him. Jane playfully smiled at him. ''What is it?''

''It's hard for me to say it but...I am a total idiot, you know that? On all the fronts'' he stated looking at her in the eyes.

''Well, you're a teetotaler, I already know that'' she countered wryly, winking.

Dick shrugged ''it's getting late'' he said sheepishly ''maybe we can...go to my hotel'' he offered, knowing they were in different ones.

Jane paused for a second, considering the offer seriously. ''Yeah...why not'' she replied, showing a tad of reluctance, though.

''We should take the metro, c'mon''.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello everyone! I'm back with a new chapter (finally!). I have nothing in particular to say, I just wanted to thank you for your reviews/follows/favs and I hope you'll like this chapter :) Let me know what you think!

* * *

Jane leant her head on Dick's strong shoulder and closed her eyes, simply pretending to be asleep; she felt the need to just stay by her own, musing about the day.

 _Jane had just had an argument – no, THE argument – with her brother. She couldn't bias him: at least, she should've told him. She had never done anything without asking her twin a tip, or just telling him what was on her mind. Now, what she had done was a big mistake that would've endangered both. But what was done was done: Jane and Don had to get along with it._

 _Jane climbed sheepishly and uncomfortably on her bed, gingerly peeking out the men around her. The first thing she thought was they were disgusting and she inwardly wondered how could classy, smart women get married, accepting every side of their husband. Would've she still found attractive her husband after picking his nose? Were those folks just exceptions or men were supposed to stink, swear, punch all the time?_

 _Jane grimaced bewildered._

 _She was worried about her brother. She needed him in that moment more than ever; even though he would've just glean at her, seething, Jane needed a familiar face somehow telling her everything was going to be alright. Jane shrugged helplessly, having enough of the mess around her and climbed down from her bed, decided to look for her brother._

 _''You, little redhead...what's your name again?'' a mocking voice called from behind._

 _''It's Malarkey. Jackson Malarkey'' she drawled. It was the first time she noticed her voice was not supposed to sound so high. She beat herself for not having considered the fact before, scared the man would've seen through her._

 _''Malarkey! Just like Don Malarkey?'' the tall man asked, reaching for her. He was tall, rugged, with large shoulders and massive arms. He looked at Jane with that mischievous grin that made her tense. He was irritating just at the sight._

 _''Yes, he's my twin brother'' Jane calmly countered, breathing hard. God knew she was not ready for that, not yet. She was not ready to start up a conversation with one of her fellows stinging to look masculine and, above all, pretending she found interesting all the things those pigs said or did._

 _''I'm lucky then! I was just looking for your brother, but I don't seem to find him'' the man explained calmly, then opening in a even more mischievous grin ''He owes me twenty bucks. Since I can't find him, you'll be the one paying the good Wild Bill'' the man said, stepping closer to her and challenging Jane with his stare._

 _So Jane now knew why she could not find her brother, and it wasn't her fault. The idiot had always had this penchant on gambling; it affected their mother terribly._

 _''Listen, I can't take the responsibility for my brother's bullshits. Just wait for him, he'll have to show up eventually anyway'' Jane answered coolly, hoping the man would've come to some good sense._

 _''Too easy. I need the cash now'' the man sputtered, stepping again closer to Jane ''give me that cash or I'll trade your organs for some bucks'' he threatened, and by the look on his face Jane could sadly tell he was not joking._

 _''Man, be reasonable, I...''_

 _''What are you trying to say? That I'm not reasonable?! You...''_

 _''Bill, hey, calm down'' a man from behind Bill's dreadful large shoulders said, nearing them ''the kid here knows nothing 'bout your stuff. Leave him in peace, c'me on'' he calmly stated, trying to part them._

 _Bill blatantly seemed to consider his friend's wise tip. ''You know Joe, I would leave this skum to his pitiful world'' he shrugged ''if it weren't Saturday, and I had my cash so I could go through pubs but, you know, Wild Bill always gets in some fun on Saturday nights!'' before Jane could depict what was about to happen, she found Wild Bill's fist on her cheek. The punch made her almost fall to the ground, and it left a wide red spot on her face. She literally felt her jaw cracking, her heart pulsating adrenaline._

 _''You wanted it, son of a bitch!'' she barked. It sounded like a threaten despite the fact that she didn't know what she would've done next. Fighting? Damn no, she hated wrestling. But something had to be done, at least to cover the high notes of her voice demonstrating she was actually a him. That was her very first challenge._

 _Jane closed her fists, threatening Bill with a seething glare._

 _Bill squinted at her, blatantly amused at the sight ''oh, but look at you. You look so adorable with your fist closed like this. And what will you do? Punch me?'' he mocked._

 _Jane literally flew on the man, following what her body told her to do. Before she knew it, she was engaged in her first fight. Weirdly, it was not so terrible as she thought: it was actually terrifying, feeling her every cells pumping adrenaline and a power she had never experienced in a lifetime. She felt alive and she knew she was doing good, lashing out at Bill properly and taking his lumps. A group gathered around them: some tried to stop them, some others prodded them. Too focused on her newly acquired fans, Jane didn't see Bill's strong fist coming; that one sent her to the ground, almost senseless._

 _The man who first tried to help her crouched next to her ''hey man, are you still with us?'' he asked worriedly ''hey, buddy? It's going to be alright. Ice! Ice now!'' he ordered at someone behind him ''Now Toye is going to take care of you, alright?''_

 _Jane nodded in response._

 _Then, everybody in the room shut up, instantly. Even Bill – in bad condition but still standing – stepped back._

 _''What's going on here?'' a calm, stoic voice asked from her behind. No one sputtered a word._

 _''Private Toye? What's wrong with this trooper?''_

 _''Nothing sir, he's sick but he'll be fine'' Toye promptly countered._

 _Jane heard the man's footsteps approaching her and saw him squatting next to her and Toye. The man – red hair, freckles all over his face and dreamy cerulean eyes – studied her face carefully and then gleaned at Toye._

 _''What happened, son?'' he said tenderly ''who did this to you?''_

 _Jane felt everybody's eyes on her: Toye squinted at her while Bill, from behind, kept his head low but wearing an expression that said it all: ''I know you're not man enough to shut that fucking mouth.''_

 _''No one. I just felt from my bed. Toye and Guarnere are trying to help me'' Jane adjusted her view: the red hair soldier was an officer ''sir'', she added. She decided not to betray them, for their and her own sake. Bill sighed in relief as he acknowledged he would've escaped another rebuke._

 _''Is it true?'' the red head asked looking at Toye and Guarnere._

 _''Yessir'' they replied in a echo. The red head officer looked them up and down, sure they were all lying._

 _''Alright then. Private...?''_

 _''Malarkey, sir'' Jane sheepishly replied._

 _''Private Malarkey, I'll carry you to the Aid Station. Next time, try to be more careful'' he said grinning, glaring at Bill._

 _''Sure, sir.''_

 _The red head officer helped her on her knees; in the act, Jane managed to notice the name on his uniform: ''Winters.'' It just fit well to him, Jane thought._

 _Knowing that she had earned Bill and Toye's trust for the moment, Jane left her barrack helped by the handsome officer._

 _''Is it your first day here, Private?''_

 _''My second day, sir.''_

 _''Have you already been training?''_

 _''Yes sir, this morning.''_

 _''You'll need to work hard, Private. The paratroopers are demanding. We need our men to be strong, prepared, and able to defend themselves'' Winters stated, having a dig at her._

 _Jane shrugged, embarrassed ''I can fend myself, sir.''_

 _''I actually can tell you can't, Private Malarkey. But it's a beginning. You'll be the finest soldier this Company can claim to have. You already have what it takes to be it'' he stated proudly, smiling at Jane. ''Won't you ask me what it is?'' Winters teased, smiling playfully at her._

 _''What it is, sir?'' she repeated playfully in return, feeling the conversation on a friendly mode now._

 _''You're faithful. You didn't betray the man that beat you up and that you've met only two days ago.''_

 _''I didn't even know his name till tonight, sir'' Jane snickered, avoiding her the flame she felt on her cheeks._

 _''It's remarkable. We'll work hard – together – to make a great man out of you, Private Malarkey.''_

 _Winters stated as a matter-of-fact, sure he would've succeeded in the task and sure he was talking to a man; he had only to make Jane great. Jane knew the Lieutenant would've constricted her to do of her best, to be a better – a greater – person. It came to her, instead, to become a man._

 _When she enlisted, Jane Malarkey knew she could've not kept being a woman, but still she was one. On that day, she realized she could not be Jane anymore._

 _She could not fend herself. She didn't stink, she loved taking baths, eating with fork and knife, she hated cursing, she didn't say ''fucking'' a lot._

 _On that day, everything began._

 _On that day, Jane started her way to be Jackson. And from the way she had fought back Bill's range, she could tell it was a good beginning._

Everything had changed from that day. Jackson took over Jane surprisingly easily. In a few weeks, Jane was a far though and she started to think of her like she actually was a male. Sometimes, she felt the need to just pee wherever she wanted like her fellows did, promptly recalling she didn't have what it took. Jackson felt normal. Hanging out with Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye earned him the respect from the rest of the Company. Lieutenant Winters had a penchant on him, always spurring and buoying him. Jackson didn't fear Lieutenant Sobel's punishments. He had made it. Jackson became a paratrooper: a task so many men failed to reach.

Now, Joe would've not talked to her for unknown reasons. From one day to the other, he had stopped talking to her, glancing at her whenever she was around. When she tried to talk to him he fended her off and looked at her seething, in a inexplicable hatred and disgust. Jane decided she woud've waited for Bill to come back: she had other troubles on her mind and from the way Joe glared at her, she knew she had to give him time.

Winters – Dick, she could call him Dick – was next to her, in Paris. After all the things they went through, they came to this: he kissed her and now they were headed to his hotel.

Jane had always felt some kind of attraction for the Captain but she never really considered being with him in that way in the reality. It was weird, wrongful – since he was her superior and there was a war out there – but still so right, for unknown reason.

Dick patted tenderly on her naked leg ''Jane, wake up. It's the last stop. We missed ours, we'll have to walk for a while.''

''What?'' she asked bewildered with a sleepy tone.

''We missed our stop.''

''How come?'' she exclaimed ''were you asleep, too?''

Dick shrugged, inexplicably embarrassed.''Sort of.''

''Oh. Ok, let's go.''

When they left the station, there was a kid at the entrance who nodded at Dick and saluted him, which Dick returned. Jane observed intrigued, but she decided to let it go.

On their way to Dick's hotel, no one sputtered a word. There was embarrassment and, probably, none of them knew where the night – or even the whole situation – would've ended.

Jane climbed heavily each rung to Dick's room. Dick looked for the keys in his pocket and then unlocked the door: to Jane, that time felt like an eternity.

Dick turned on the lights, inviting her to enter and then closing the door at her back. She stepped inside, sheepishly, cautiously, like a Kraut was about to jump from a corner and shoot at them. There was no reason to smell danger, there, they were so far from the trench now: still, Jane was wired just like she was in a foxhole, waiting for the enemy to come and embracing her rifle.

Dick squirmed at her, intrigued ''so, I'll find you something to wear for the night, alright?''

''Yeah'' she promptly replied, tensed '' one of your shirts will be fine.''

Dick hurriedly looked for a shirt in the small luggage he carried and handed it to her. He then added he needed to take a bath.

''Sure'' Jane exclaimed, relieved she would've had some time to broad about what to do – and what not to.

Jane considered to just crawl in the bed and pretend to be asleep. Maybe he would've waken her up and so she would've been safe; for the night, at least, since in the morning they would've woken up, she should've woken up, and the problem would've come up anyway.

Jane had to think. She found herself madly whispering, considering the pros and cons. She was going mad. Then, she looked at the door that separated the bedroom from the bathroom: inside there, Dick was relaxing in the tube, probably with his eyes closed, escaping from the world. Jane could not avoid her thoughts wandering to imagine Dick's body, covered by the water; she guessed his whole body was covered by adorable freckles. She had already seen him shirtless, she knew how his back – muscular – looked like. She also knew his back ended in a good shaped butt, which continued with white, long legs covered by red hair. Dick Winters didn't have to get undress to look spectacular.

Jane thought whether she had to take a decision, she had to see, to try: seeing him, being in such situation would've told her what she really wanted to do.

She got up from the bed and reached for the door, placing delicately her hand on grip, hesitating.

The bathroom was teeming with vapor so she struggled to adjust her view to catch the tube. There, she found him as she had imagined: Dick kept his eyes closed, his head leaned against the tube, his hand posed on the bridge; he was completely out of the world that he hadn't even noticed she was there.

Jane could not restrain a smile: he look so peaceful she felt guilty she was not interrupting. She stepped closer, silently, cautiously, so Dick would've not noticed her presence.

She bit her lower lip, already regretting her bad idea: he was still her superior and the fact he invited her in his hotel room didn't necessarily mean anything. It was so unprincipled of her violating his intimacy and it was not typically her. However, call it the curiosity of an innocent, but she didn't leave: instead, she stepped even closer. Her heavy breathe made Dick open his eyes abruptly but, instead of being bewildered, he smiled tenderly at her.

''You need something?''

Jane squirmed, turning red in her cheeks ''I...actually I wanted to know how long your bath will take...I'm tired. I want to sleep'' Jane manged to reply.

Dick's mouth curled in a tender smile. He found her so beautiful, all embarrassed. Dick couldn't figure out why she did enter and he didn't care: he thought she was just too pretty standing there with her cheeks aflame, sheepishly lowering her head.

''I'm coming'' he replied, turning back to take his towel. Jane was taken aback when she beheld him raising from the bath-tube, revealing what the water was properly covering before. On instinct, she turned back, covering her eyes with her hand.

''You could warn me!'' she cried nervously, hearing Dick snickering from behind.

''Well I'm sorry, I thought you got used to see men naked after a shower'' he teased.

''Well, I'm not used to you! You're still my superior and I think it's inappropriate of yours revealing your obscenities!'' she fast scolded, feeling her cheeks literally burning. Damn, she wanted to disappear!

''Alright, alright, relax'' he said, patting her on her shoulder while he manged to cover his body with the towel ''you don't have to say all this, really. Moreover, you are the curious one'' he snickered with a boyish smile.

''I just wanted to ask you...''

''Really, you don't have to do that'' Dick interrupted seriously, looking right in her eyes ''Come on, let's go to bed'' and saying this, he took her hand, guiding her to the bed.

The thing was, Jane hadn't really come to terms with what she was supposed to do. Maybe, he would've not done nothing and she was just beating herself up something that didn't even exist.

When Dick took both her hands in his, guiding her to him and meeting her lips with hers, Jane's mind went blank soon enough she realized where all that was going to.

Dick put his hand behind her back, guiding her even more into him. Jane couldn't avoid her hands to wander on his naked back and on his magnificently shaped butt, only covered by the white towel. Before she could spit that it was totally wrong, she found Dick's tongue arguing with hers, his mouth literally devouring hers. His hands went from caressing her face to caressing her back, then pulling her hips close to him,starting to rhythmically rocking his hips with hers. Jane heard both their breathes getting heavier; the moment she heard a moan coming from Dick's throat, she knew she was losing it here and there. Dick guided her toward the bed, pushing her to it.

''Dick, I...'' she could not reach him, or at least he would've not let her reach him. Her words were cut by his bites on her neck.

''Oh, God...'' she moaned, giving up to him and collapsing on the bed. He promptly joined climbing on her, constricting her to spread her legs.

''Dick, listen to me'' she stated, this time seriously, while Dick focused on her collarbone. Somehow, she reached him.

''Hmm?'' he huffed.

''I need to tell you something.''

Dick stopped kissing her to look at her, blatantly worried.

''I have never...Never'' she whispered avoiding his stare.

''Oh'' Dick exclaimed ''so you won't. I see that.'' Dick reassured, caressing her face tenderly and printing a kiss on her cheek ''I'm good with that, really. I don't want to force things.''

Jane grimaced ''it's that. You see, I don't want to go further...not till I will understand where all this will go.''

Dick looked intrigued at her ''what do you mean?''

''I mean, we'll be back at Mourmelon by tomorrow afternoon and everything may fade away. I don't know.''

''Why should it fade away?'' Dick asked upset ''this is real, Jane. At least for me. You are a part of me. Nothing will change when we'll be back on Mourmelon'' he stated seriously ''well, maybe I won't be able to do this'' he snickered, biting passionately her neck and eliciting a chuckle from her ''but everything will be the same. I want you by my side just like you did for all this time.''

Jane knew her eyes were sparkling. She could not believe to hear those words from him. She had been known Winters for two years and she had soon started to believe he was a good leader, good tempered but a total mess when it came to personal and intimate relationship. The only one he let inside his life was Lewis Nixon, his shadow. Truth was no one ever thought of Winters emotionally involved with someone. He was always there, always close, but actually he wasn't. He was always on another stage, he was interested but not really, worried but calm. Now, he was totally melting in front of her, looking at lovely, lustily and with a dreamy look.

''This doesn't mean we have to force things, anyway'' Dick said, climbing down from her ''we can just sleep. Holding you in my arms will be just perfect for me.'' Dick offered her his arms which Jane accepted, crawling closer into his grip.

The following day, they would've got back at the base and to their lives. However, Jane knew she could count on someone else, now. He was another reason to get through the days, get through the war. And she was downright curious to see what was coming next.

* * *

 _''Hey Malark, how's your eye?''_

 _''It will heal'' Jackson shrugged ''Your friend's a tough one, but I'm tough too'' he snickered._

 _''Yeah, we saw it'' Joe exclaimed, patting on the soldier's shoulder ''well, don't be hard on Bill. He was just bored but he's a good man. And we appreciated how you handled it with Winters. It was nice from you'' he stated, pleasingly grateful._

 _''It was fine. I didn't want to put you in some worthless trouble. And I can handle everything by myself.''_

 _''Well, you're a real tough, Malarkey'' he drawled smiling gently at him ''well, what are you up to for tonight?''_

 _''Uhm, nothing I guess. Why?''_

 _''There's a pub Bill and I wanted to check. They say the booze is cheap. What'd you say about joining us?''_

 _Jackson really considered the offer. He knew where these things went: men got drunk, told some dirty jokes and engaged in bar fights. He was doing good, trying to act as masculine as he could, but was he really ready for this? The answer was: no, he wasn't. He was not ready to handle hands spanking some girl's butt, he was not ready for the dirty jokes. He would've said no, thank you, if it weren't for the gentleness the soldier – Joe Toye – was showing to him. Jackson did not manage to have friends yet, and he needed some. He knew it was crucial to have someone watching over his back on a battle and, if asked, Jackson would've preferred Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere's protection._

 _''Why not.''_

Jane – back with her uniform – saluted Dick in his office printing a fast kiss on his lips. The cruel reality was waiting for her out there and she had to face it.

With Bill come back from the hospital, she hoped Joe would've listened to her.

''What if he just runs amok out of the pub?'' Jackson asked fretfully walking by Bill's side.

''He won't, Malarkey. Trust me.'' Bill encouraged ''and please, stop obsessing me. I've just come back from the hospital, for Christ's sake!''

Jackson chuckled playfully ''Oh, I'm downright sorry, Bill. I didn't figure out you're an old man now'' he snickered, nudging at Bill's arm and receiving a grimace in return.

When they arrived at the pub where Bill and Joe were supposed to meet, Jackson felt inexplicably alone, as he was about to fight a real battle. He did know nothing about Joe's reasons so he'd not been able to prepare his own speech. He was utterly unprepared to what was about to happen.

Bill entered the pub for first, followed by Jackson who was perfectly hidden behind Bill's rugged figure. When Joe first caught Bill's sight, he got up from his chair and neared his friend with a bright smile which disappeared when he noticed Jackson.

''What the heck is he doing here?'' Joe barked looking daggers at Bill ''You duped me!''

''Joe, it isn't his fault, I-'' Jackson tried to defend his friend stepping by his side.

''You just shut up! I don't wanna hear a single word out of your dirty mouth!'' Joe boomed, pointing his finger to Jackson's nose. Jackson, trembling, stepped away from him, not feeling his legs anymore.

''Joe, you asshole. Can you be reasonable for just once your life?'' Bill stated firmly, trying to be as neutral as he could ''Listen, Jackson here wants only to know why the hell you decided your friendship has to come to an end. You know, we just want to comprehend how idiot you are'' he continued wryly, trying to get his friend to calm down in which he apparently succeeded. When Bill knew he had caught Joe's attention, he motioned him the chair ''now sit, and talk''.

Joe grimaced and glared at Jackson but he cautiously sat on the chair, followed by Bill and Jackson.

Joe and Jackson exchanged soulful looks for what seemed to be an eternity: Joe, gritting and fighting his anger, kept looking daggers at his ex best friend while Jackson felt tears at his eyes, fighting back the urge to just run away from there or hug close Joe.

Bill stared at them discouraged and helplessly drawled ''okay, now that you've been both exchanging war looks, you can start to talk. Joe, you go first.''

Joe looked away, frowned, too stubborn to make the first move. Jackson, hopelessly, implored: ''Please, Joe. I don't want our friendship to end but if it has to, I wanna know where I fucked all up.''

''Yeah, let's start with the verb you used: fuck!'' Joe spitted, causing Bill and Jackson to look at each other bewildered.

''What the hell are you saying, buddy? Did our Jackson steal your girl or something?'' Bill asked both ironically and astonished.

''Jackson can't steal my girls, since the asshole here's a fucking queer!'' Joe accused booming, disgusted at the picture still set in his mind of Jackson and Captain Winters' kiss.

''What the hell you're talking about?! You're accusing me of being a queer?'' Jackson barked, boiling over at hearing such unfounded abuse from his friend ''Prove it!''

''Don't even try to deny it! I saw everything! You corrupted Captain Winters! I saw you kissing him in his office!''

Jackson first thought at that was ''how''. Then, a smirk appeared on his face and he couldn't keep the word ''actually, it was him kissing me'', he challenged. Bill slapped his insolence on his shoulder and gave him a ''what the fuck'' look.

Joe, in return, looked at him agape, sure he was about to throw up his lunch. ''You're a fucking queer!'' he was only able to proffer.

Jackson shrugged, trying to regain his composure. Now, he knew Joe's reasons and he admitted they were good ones. Moreover, Jackson perfectly knew what he was supposed to do to clear the things up: he had to tell Joe the truth.

''Joe, listen to me, will you?'' Jackson said quietly trying to stare right in Joe's seething eyes ''I'm not a queer, you can trust me. But you deserve an explanation for what you've seen.''

There were a billions things Joe could've demurred, but instead he just shut up. Joe still hoped there was a way they could save their friendship; he still knew he cared about Jackson despite what he thought he was.

''Captain Winters, Dick, kissed me and there's nothing wrong with that. I'm a woman, Joe'' Jackson said almost in a whisper with eyes full of emotions: hope, fear and serenity since he had just taken a load off his mind.

Joe stared at him in dismay, agape, askance. Bill himself sighed in relief since he would've not felt like lying to his friend anymore.

''Joe, you have to believe me. My real name is Jane, Jane Malarkey'' Jackson tried again, fighting the urge to reach for Joe's hand. Joe, still astounded and not knowing what to say, looked at Bill. ''Did you know it?''

Bill sighed, shrugging ''yeah, buddy. I discovered it by myself.''

Joe got up abruptly and Jackson and Bill looked at each other not knowing what their friend was about to do.

''You lied to me, for all these years. I trusted you, you were my best friend'' Joe then whispered in a painful lament, looking down unable to stare into his best friend's eyes.

''Joe, you have to understand I could not tell my secret to anymore. You heard Bill, he discovered by-''

''You had to tell it to me! I trusted you with all myself, with all my life! I would give my life for yours, Jackson! I deserved to know who you are!'' Joe barked staring now at Jackson with regretful eyes while his face crumpled.

''Joe, I'm so sorry'' Jackson whispered, heartsick at realizing how hurt his friend was. Jackson realized Joe had now the right reasons to be mad at him, and he could do nothing about it. He had dismayed him by keeping the most important thing of his life away from him. Joe Toye had always been the reasonable one, passionate and trustful, the best friend Jackson could've ever claimed to have. He would've literally risked his life for his, and what Jackson gave him in return was a bag full of lies. How stupid of him was thinking that Joe – and Bill – would've not kept his secret or that they would've looked at him differently whether they knew before. He should've listened to Bill's suggestion when he found out about him: he should've told it to Joe, in that moment.

Bill felt uncomfortable staring at his best friends crumpling in disappointment and sadness so he felt the urge to break the ice: ''So, everything's clear now, truth is out and we can go back to our lives and have a pint all together! You Joe, you will forgive Jackson so we can be the three musketeers again'' he hopefully exclaimed, patting on Joe's shoulder.

''No'' Joe stated turning to Jackson ''You're not a queer, so I forgive you. But nothing is going to be the same, not anymore'' he whispered and, giving one last dejected look to Jackson, left the pub.

Jackson collapsed on the chair again in the moment Joe was out of the door and rubbed both his hands through his hair.

''Oh Bill, I'm a total mess!'' he moaned, fighting back the tears.

''Don't listen to him. He will understand, give him time. Time heals everything.''


End file.
